Come What May
by Inion Lugh
Summary: Rinyávië is Elrond's eldest daughter. When she realizes that she does not love the Elf she is engaged to, she heads off to find greener pastures, and meets true love in the face of a familiar character


Disclaimer: I don't own any of Tolkien's characters (obviously), I'm just borrowing without permission. I also don't own the song "Come What May" from Moulin Rouge, or the song "One Day I'll Fly Away" also from Moulin Rouge. Too bad, they're both gorgeous. The line "How wonderful life is now you're in the world" is also from Moulin Rouge (do we notice a theme?) "Whistle Down the Wind" is taken from Whistle Down the Wind, the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical. "Growltiger's Last Stand" is from Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats by TS Eliot.  
  
Author's Note: My most sincere apologies. I began this when I was only halfway through with Fellowship, and I'm still not finished with Two Towers, so I'm sure there are quite a few errors, although by the end I had finished all three books, plus the Hobbit. Also, I'm sure I screwed up the information on Boromir and the Elves. I know Rinyávië does not mean "Wolfsong" but I have no idea what it means, and I like the name Wolfsong. Anybody know the true Elven translation for it (I don't care whether it's in Quenya or Sindarin; actually, I'd like both)? Send me an email- Liotale@yahoo.com I'm quite interested, and I can't seem to find a good translator. Also, I would like to know what Rinyávië actually means in Elvish, if anybody knows.  
  
And, finally, I'm sorry but I have no time to go through and edit this (anybody wanna beta?) so it's posted the way I wrote it originally.  
  
  
  
Come What May  
  
'Never knew I could feel like this  
  
Like I've never seen the sky before  
  
I want to vanish inside your kiss  
  
Every day I'm loving you more and more  
  
Listen to my heart, can you heart it sings  
  
Telling me to give you everything  
  
Seasons may change, winter to spring  
  
But I love you until the end of time  
  
Come what may  
  
Come what may  
  
I will love you until my dying day  
  
Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place  
  
Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace  
  
Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste  
  
It all revolves around you  
  
And there's no mountain too high  
  
No river too wide  
  
Sing out this song I'll be there by your side  
  
Storm clouds may gather  
  
And stars may collide  
  
But I love you until the end of time  
  
Come what may  
  
Come what may  
  
I will love you until my dying day  
  
Oh, come what may, come what may  
  
I will love you, I will love you  
  
Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place  
  
Come what may  
  
Come what may  
  
I will love you until my dying day'  
  
-David Baerwald, Moulin Rouge  
  
  
  
  
  
Elrond gazed out at the "young" Elven girl, who looked to be about twenty years of age, though she was much older than that. She had a knife in hand and was carefully carving a new bow, as her previous bow was growing quite old.  
  
"She has a free spirit, Father," Elladan said quietly, gesturing to his younger sister. "Rivendell will soon grow tiresome to her, and she will seek more lively a home."  
  
"Rinyávië has a free spirit, yes, but even the wildest horse can be tamed."  
  
"Rinyávië is not a horse, Father, nor can she be so easily tamed. She will seek the sea and go into the west. You know this as well as I."  
  
Elrond smiled. "No, Elladan. She will go to Mirkwood."  
  
"Mirkwood? Adventurous, yes, but why?"  
  
"There is a young Elf there whom she will fall in love with and marry, thus remaining her life in Mirkwood."  
  
"Father, she will not go to Mirkwood on your command, nor will she fall in love simply because you tell her to."  
  
"No, Elladan, she will not," Elrond agreed. "That is why Thranduil and Legolas will be coming here. She will meet Legolas and fall in love with him. Thranduil and I have spent much time planning this."  
  
"Thranduil? Not the Mirkwood King?"  
  
"The very same. I expect they will arrive tomorrow, around luncheon. Elrohir is very excited."  
  
Elladan smiled. "He would be. He has always longed to see the Elves of Mirkwood."  
  
Elrond smiled back at his eldest child. Before he could reply, a loud shout rang out and a horse came barreling toward the two Elves. Neither moved, and the rider barely managed to stop the animal in time.  
  
"Good morning to you as well," Elladan laughed.  
  
Rinyávië grinned back at her older brother. "Halcyon wanted to run, so I let her."  
  
Elrond sighed. "Next time, let her run in a field."  
  
"Yes, Father," she said, jumping down from the animal. "So, what were you two talking about?"  
  
Elrond smiled at Elladan. "We're having guests tomorrow."  
  
"Guests?" Rinyávië's smile vanished.  
  
"Yes. And yes, you must behave. Our guests are very important. King Thranduil and his son Legolas, of Mirkwood."  
  
If it was possible for her to look any more disappointed, she did. "The King and his son? Father, may I-"  
  
"No, Rinyávië," Elrond said calmly. "I am the Lord of Rivendell, and it is only proper that all my children greet our guests." His tone changed to one of amusement. "In their finest dress and acting with their best manners, of course."  
  
"We have to dress up?" Elladan asked, dismayed. He scowled. "Father, you know how I hate-"  
  
"Yes, I do know." The elder smiled. "Strange that my two oldest children are also the wildest- and most stubborn."  
  
Rinyávië grinned. "It runs in the family, Father. When do our esteemed guests arrive?"  
  
"Do not take such a cruel tone, Rinyávië. We expect the guests-"  
  
"Lord Elrond!" A slender Elf dashed up to the three family members. "My Lord, King Thranduil is early. He sends a message- he is not far off and will arrive within the hour!"  
  
Elrond turned to his children. "Hurry. I want you to be ready to receive our guests in half an hour. Rinyávië, tell your sister that we are having guests. Elladan, find Elrohir."  
  
"Yes, Father," they said sulkily.  
  
Rinyávië knew precisely where her sister would be and hurried to find her. She rapped gently on the door to her sister's room. "Come in!"  
  
Rinyávië pushed the wooden door open and strode in. "Arwen?" she asked. Her sister was brushing her long brown hair. "Arwen, we have guests arriving within thirty minutes. Father wants us ready in fifteen minutes."  
  
The younger Elf turned in surprise. "That is not enough time to get properly dressed!"  
  
"You are always properly dressed," Rinyávië pointed out.  
  
"I meant for you," Arwen said, grabbing her sister's arm and directing her toward the wardrobe. "You cannot be seen in men's clothing; it is not proper. Your hair must be brushed and put up, preferably with flowers, white ones for you, I think. We must find the perfect dress for you, one with green and blue, but not in deep shades, for that will clash with your eyes." Arwen studied her sister, looking straight into her eyes, frowning. "Your eyes make it so difficult to choose!" she complained, and both girls knew it was true. Rinyávië was proud of her eyes, however, since they were very rare: one a tender blue, the other a sharp green.  
  
Arwen dug through her wardrobe, searching for the perfect gown, and soon pulled out a gown of sea green with gold trimming. "It's perfect for you. Hurry, put it on!"  
  
Rinyávië grimaced and struggled to get the gown over her head, but finally managed with Arwen's help. She glanced in her sister's full-length mirror and scowled. "I don't look good in this," she muttered.  
  
"You look beautiful," Arwen corrected. "You simply are used to looking at yourself in pants and a stained shirt."  
  
"I never wear stained shirts," Rinyávië grumbled.  
  
Arwen shoved her down in a beautiful chair made of wood and quickly went to work on her sister's hair, weaving flowers into the delicate braids she pulled back. By the time she had finished, Rinyávië no longer carried the strong, independent look she struggled to achieve, but instead looked like a tender, sweet princess.  
  
Arwen stood back to admire her handiwork, then smiled. "You should dress like this more often. Father will be pleased, certainly. And the guests-" She stopped in mid-sentence, her eyes growing wide. "The guests! They were supposed to have arrived half an hour ago!"  
  
Rinyávië grinned. "There, that is one reason I hardly bother making myself look like this. You miss important deadlines." She patted Arwen's shoulder. "Don't worry, little sister, we'll simply make a grand entrance. Show them that we don't answer to their whims, no matter how important they are."  
  
Arwen turned. "Who are they?"  
  
Rinyávië looked surprised. "You went to all this trouble to make me look nice and you don't even know who is coming?" Arwen shook her head. "Well, we're expecting King Thranduil of Mirkwood, and his son Legolas."  
  
"The King and his son? Oh, we mustn't make a spectacle of ourselves!"  
  
Rinyávië grabbed Arwen's arm and dragged her from the room. "If you hadn't insisted on doing my hair, we wouldn't be late," she told her sister easily. "Besides, it's not like they'll care."  
  
"They might…"  
  
"If we come down like we meant to be late, they'll think it's simply female nature. Don't worry about it."  
  
Arwen stared. "I say we hurry to greet them and apologize."  
  
Rinyávië smiled. "You run down and do that, but don't mention that I'm coming. I'll be along in a few minutes my way, and we'll see what works best."  
  
Arwen raced to greet the King and his son, and Rinyávië followed behind her. When the younger Elf apologized for her lateness, King Thranduil frowned, while Elrond gave her a sharp look and reprimanded her. The youthful Legolas, as well as Elladan and Elrohir also frowned at Arwen's rudeness. Rinyávië smiled and shook her head, knowing that Arwen was regretting her decision to come late but was still eager to see how much trouble her sister got into. Rinyávië strode calmly down the grand staircase with the grace and ease characteristic to the Elves, her gaze upon Thranduil and Legolas. All the males in the room- including, Rinyávië noticed with amusement, her own family- stared with slack jaws. She reached the bottom of the stairs and bowed low.  
  
"My good King Thranduil, I thank you greatly for making the journey from Mirkwood to my home in Rivendell. It is a great pleasure- nay, a great honor to have you and your good son Legolas as guests in my home."  
  
Elladan looked at his brother. "What happened to her?" he whispered.  
  
Everyone ignored him, and King Thranduil smiled at Rinyávië. "I thank you for the warm welcome, friend. It is a pleasure to stay in your home here at Rivendell."  
  
"A great pleasure," Legolas agreed. He took Rinyávië's hand and kissed her knuckles softly, bowing low over her hand. "I have heard that the daughters of Lord Elrond are fair, but I could not have imagined one so fair as yourself."  
  
Rinyávië smiled, allowing a slight blush to spread up her cheeks. "I have heard that the Elves of Mirkwood are very kind, but certainly I am amazed by your great flattery."  
  
Elrond stared at Rinyávië. "Although perhaps next time, daughter, you will try to be more prompt."  
  
King Thranduil laughed. "Ai, this is one young Elf who knows how to capture everyone's attention. I found no fault in her entrance, my dear friend."  
  
Rinyávië smiled at Legolas. "Perhaps you and your good father are hungry?"  
  
Legolas smiled back at her. "Indeed, I know I certainly am. The journey has been long, and I wish to taste real food once more."  
  
Rinyávië bowed her head, then motioned him to follow her. As they started off, Elrond called after them. "Perhaps my other children would like to go with," he said, looking pointedly at Elladan, who nodded.  
  
"Yes, of course, Father," he said lightly.  
  
Soon, the two fathers were left alone.  
  
"Does she suspect?" Thranduil asked of Elrond.  
  
"Not at all," Elrond replied. "Does your son?"  
  
Thranduil laughed. "Hardly. This will not be as interesting as I had hoped, however. It seems Legolas is already greatly taken by your daughter. Somehow, I imagined it would be more difficult getting one of them to fall in love with the other."  
  
Elrond smiled. "She knows others very well, unfortunately. She does not like guests, nor does she enjoy acting polite and dressing in gowns. Once your son comes to discover her true self, you will see the difficulty I see."  
  
Thranduil turned. "She seemed quite taken by him, as well."  
  
"I have a feeling she was merely trying to be polite so we can conclude our business quickly, so you and Legolas can leave. And in any case, I believe that she and Arwen lost track of time, and so Rinyávië decided to greet you in style."  
  
"She certainly knows how," Thranduil said. "I noticed that even your sons appeared quite surprised by her beauty."  
  
"As was I," Elrond replied. "Never has she worn a gown, or had her hair braided and decorated. Never before has she put on an air of grace. Indeed, many days she seems as clumsy as Men do, and out of complete control."  
  
"She will be tamed by Legolas," Thranduil said calmly. "He is, after all, my son, and will find that it is his nature to be good with the women."  
  
"Let us hope," Elrond responded.  
  
"Tell me, my friend, how would your daughter react if she learned that we were trying to get her and Legolas to fall in love with each other?"  
  
Elrond closed his eyes to think, then chuckled. "Let us hope she never finds out, else I fear the results."  
  
Thranduil smiled. "She is like no other, certainly, as my good son is like no other. They are two very different people, but each is very different from other Elves. This will bring them together."  
  
Elrond nodded. "Either that or make them mortal enemies."  
  
The two exchanged glances, then smiled.  
  
In the dining hall, Legolas had made it known subliminally that he wished to eat alone with Rinyávië, and the female Elf's siblings had quickly vanished off to their rooms, leaving the two alone. For a while they ate in silence, but finally, Legolas could stand it no more and spoke nervously.  
  
"I am quite curious about Rivendell," he said cautiously.  
  
Rinyávië smiled at him. "Many are," she replied.  
  
"Perhaps you could take me on a tour," Legolas suggested in a rush of breath.  
  
Rinyávië looked startled. "I beg your pardon?"  
  
"Nothing," the Elven prince muttered, looking thoroughly embarrassed as he turned his attention to dinner.  
  
Rinyávië studied him for a few seconds, surprised by her emotions. Never before had a male acted so shy around her, nor she around him, and it was a new emotion, the feeling of surprise and embarrassment she felt. "I'd love to take you on a tour," she told Legolas. He looked up, his face brightening, and she felt a true blush spread across her neck as his dark eyes stared into her own. He is quite handsome, she realized, then her smile widened. He is handsome and strong. They quickly returned their dishes to the kitchen, and Rinyávië insisted that they wash their own. "I always do," she explained. "It gives my good friends time to spend on more important things than cleaning up after me."  
  
Legolas nodded. "I, too, always clean my dishes at home, though for a different reason. I find it relaxing, as if I can forget all that goes on around me while I take the time to take care of myself." And well mannered, as well, Rinyávië thought. A rare quality in a man.  
  
When they finished in the kitchens, Rinyávië began the tour, showing Legolas around her home with pride. The tour was concluded at her own sleeping chamber, and Legolas insisted on looking around it. Rinyávië found that she could not argue with her new friend, and allowed him to enter. He looked around, studying her wall of books, pausing to stroke several of the musical instruments in her room. He seemed especially interested in her bow.  
  
"I did not know that in Rivendell the women were taught the art," he remarked.  
  
Rinyávië smiled. "Most women are not taught how to fire an arrow, so I taught myself."  
  
Legolas laughed. "You are quite a rare woman, my friend." He smiled. "Some time, you shall come to Mirkwood, and spend time in my home. You would enjoy it."  
  
"Would I?" she asked, looking amused.  
  
Legolas smiled. "You are quite wild, as your name suggests." He smiled. "Wolfsong…quite a curious name. Why would you be named for such a deadly animal?"  
  
Rinyávië sat down on her bed and shrugged. "Why should you be named for a leaf?" she countered. "I have known many wolves in my life, and they are very kind animals. Indeed, many times have they helped me."  
  
Legolas met her gaze, and the two suddenly felt very shy of each other. "You know, I…I've never met a woman who was anything like you," Legolas said almost nervously. He stared into her eyes, then suddenly reached a hand up to stroke her cheek. "I've never felt this way about a woman before, either…" He moved forward a bit, and suddenly their lips met.  
  
"Rinyávië! Rinyávië!" The door to her room burst open and Elladan stood in the doorway. He froze when he saw his sister in the Elven prince's embrace, and his eyes narrowed. "Rinyávië!" he bellowed. The two Elves drew apart from each other and stared at Elladan, each blushing slightly.  
  
Rinyávië was the first to speak. "What, Elladan?" she snapped shortly, tucking her hair behind her ears.  
  
"We were going hunting, remember?" He stared at her. "Unless you'd rather spend time with him."  
  
Rinyávië looked startled by her brother's tone, then suddenly understood. She smiled at Legolas, and set a hand on his upper arm. "Excuse me, I think I need to talk to my brother." Elladan smirked at Legolas, who blinked back. Rinyávië led Elladan into the hall just outside her room and glared at him. "Don't be so rude to Legolas, Elladan. You hardly know him."  
  
"I hardly know him? And how long have you known him? He is a perfect stranger, Rinyávië, and I don't think you should be kissing strangers."  
  
The young woman looked shocked. "Elladan, you can hardly order me around. What I choose to do and not to do is up to me, and I will make that decision myself- without your help."  
  
There was a moment of silence, then Elladan sighed. "I'm sorry, Rinyávië, but I'm a bit jealous. You must excuse me…I do not like having my charming sister stolen and made into a different person in the course of a few hours."  
  
She smiled. "Don't worry, I'm still me. And I do want to go on the hunt. Only…"  
  
"You want him to come with."  
  
"Would it anger you so much?" she asked. "If so, then I'm sure he will understand."  
  
Elladan nodded. "Good, you explain to him then."  
  
Rinyávië's jaw dropped; this was not the response she was expecting. However, she said nothing, merely nodded and went back to her room. She and Legolas came out a few minutes later, and he smiled warmly. "I think I can find my way to my own room. It was a pleasure to meet you, Elladan. Rinyávië, enjoy your hunt." He smiled at her as he strode away, and Rinyávië looked positively delighted.  
  
"Let's go," Elladan grunted, looking angry. "Maybe the hunt will make you forget about him."  
  
Legolas returned to his room with ease, pausing only to say hello to his father and Elrond, who were still having words. He lay down on the soft bed and sighed, his thoughts on Rinyávië. After an hour, there was a knock on the door, and King Thranduil came into the room.  
  
"Good evening, Father," Legolas greeted cheerfully. "How do you feel?"  
  
"Quite curious, my son. Rumor says you spent nearly the entire day with the young Lady of the house."  
  
"Rinyávië," Legolas sighed. "Never have I met a woman as beautiful as her."  
  
"Beauty must not be the only factor in choosing a good wife, Legolas. You will do well to remember that. What if you find that she is a terrible cook?"  
  
Legolas burst into laughter. "Father, your thoughts lay always on food! If she is a terrible cook, then we will find another way to eat a good meal."  
  
"What if she does not want to leave Rivendell to go with you?"  
  
Legolas frowned at his father. "You sound as if you have thought this through."  
  
"All the while I have been speaking with Elrond we have come to an agreement. You and Rinyávië are perfect for each other."  
  
Legolas smiled. "I do not disagree."  
  
Thranduil chuckled lightly. "Indeed? You certainly are my son, Legolas. You will, of course, wish to choose her as a wife."  
  
There was a moment of silence. "As a wife? Certainly I am considering it, but…well, it is simply too early to tell whether she would make a good wife or not."  
  
Thranduil smiled. "She will, my son. Trust me, she will."  
  
~*~  
  
As much as she tried to focus on the hunt, Rinyávië's thoughts lay on Legolas, and soon her fellow hunters began to grow angry. She was the best archer of the small group of ten, and she had the greatest skills at tracking animals- earning her the name Wolfsong- but she was not needed on the hunt.  
  
Finally, she forced herself to focus on the hunt by wondering at and imagining the look on her beloved's face when she brought in the prize. Of course, she would let any of her fellow hunters take as much credit as they wanted, though they never did. Legolas would still be pleased and amazed at her skills.  
  
They felled two deer, and she bent over them in sorrow. Her brothers thought her ritual a waste of time, something not necessary, but Rinyávië believed strongly in paying her respects to the dead- especially if she was the reason they were dead.  
  
The deer were carried back to Rivendell to be prepared for the next meals, and Rinyávië headed to her room. On the way she passed King Thranduil, and offered him a warm bow. He stopped and stared at her.  
  
"You have changed dress, my Lady," he said politely.  
  
Rinyávië glanced down at her dirtied clothing and nodded. "Yes, good King. I assisted my brothers and friends on a hunt, and did not wish to ruin my good gowns." Besides, these are far more comfortable, she thought, keeping the warm smile on her face.  
  
"A hunt?" he repeated. "You assisted on a hunt?"  
  
She bowed once again. "Yes, milord. I have great skills with the forest, and offer my help whenever I can."  
  
He smiled. "You have great skills with the forest, yet you live in a city. You would be far more pleased with Mirkwood."  
  
"Indeed, my Lord?" she asked, not giving away any hints as to her thoughts.  
  
"Good night, my Lady. I hope you rest well, and that pleasant dreams fall upon your mind."  
  
"And I, my Lord, hope that always Eärendil smiles upon you."  
  
They parted ways, and she stopped to look back at him. Why is it that the minds of males are always on marriage? She thought, shaking her head and smiling.  
  
~*~  
  
The next morning, Rinyávië and Legolas left Rivendell to ride their horses and picnic in a meadow near a lake, one of Rinyávië's favorite spots. Rinyávië dressed in her riding clothes, but she borrowed a beautiful robe from her sister and nice boots from her father (hoping he wouldn't notice that his favorite shoes were gone). Legolas appeared surprised by her choice of outfit, but made no comment, and they set off. Legolas had a horse of his own, a beautiful stallion that he called Caranelda. Rinyávië rode Halcyon, her favorite mare, and was pleased to find that Legolas had a bit of a competitive spirit. Soon the two were racing, urging their horses to speed as fast as possible to the lake and the meadow, but Rinyávië, who knew the area, won the race.  
  
They spread a quilt along the shore of the lake and pulled out the food, eating quickly. They were quiet, almost shy of each other, but they were enjoying themselves. Finally, as the sun began to set, they packed up their belongings and jumped easily onto their horses. They took their time returning to Rivendell, cherishing the long walk and scenery.  
  
Finally, as the beautiful city came into sight, Legolas stopped and turned to Rinyávië. "Would you like to come to Mirkwood with us when we return home?"  
  
She looked surprise, then suddenly flushed by the excitement she felt. "I would love to," she replied honestly.  
  
Legolas looked positively delighted and grinned. "Wonderful! I'll have to talk with Father, of course, and you'll have to speak with Lord Elrond, but…I don't think they'll disagree."  
  
Rinyávië nodded furiously. "Father won't disagree. I know him very well, and he wants his children well off. He will be happy."  
  
Legolas took a moment for her words to sink in, then suddenly he stared. "He wants his children well-off?" he repeated. "As in…through marriage?"  
  
Rinyávië looked startled, then suddenly laughed. "Well, yes. I hadn't meant it that way, but…" She gulped. "Yes. As in marriage."  
  
Legolas met her gaze and smiled. "And would you be set against marriage? For I have heard that you are the untamable Elf, the one who has a spirit for travel and a heart for adventure."  
  
She bit her lip and smiled. "With the right Elf, I would be more than willing to settle down for life and begin a family."  
  
Legolas grinned. "I'll take that into consideration. Tell me, however, what you consider to be the perfect qualities in an Elf."  
  
Rinyávië cocked her head and thought for a second. "Well, certainly he will be handsome, about your height and build, I suppose, with the manners of a prince yet the spirit of a soldier, the tenderness of a brother, and yet the compassion of a father."  
  
"You expect a lot in one Elf," Legolas remarked. "I'm not sure I'd be able to live up to your expectations."  
  
She raised an eyebrow. "Whoever said I was talking about you?" she countered, her voice teasing.  
  
Legolas blinked innocently. "Well, I assumed from your description that it was I you spoke of. After all, I do have all of the qualities you just named."  
  
"As well as a good ego?" Rinyávië asked innocently.  
  
Legolas mock-glared at her, then burst into laughter. "A healthy ego is good in an Elf. For that matter, what makes you sure that you would be a suitable wife?"  
  
"Why, there is only one answer to such a question, my dear Legolas. I am Rinyávië, Wolfsong, daughter of Lord Elrond. But more importantly, I am me. Do you need any other reason?"  
  
He chuckled. "Indeed, there is no other answer that one could expect from an Elf such as you."  
  
She smiled. "Let's go home, Legolas, I want to speak with my father."  
  
"As do I."  
  
Rinyávië whispered softly to Halcyon, and soon she and Legolas arrived back in Rivendell. Each headed to speak with their father in the hopes that Rinyávië would return to Mirkwood with Legolas.  
  
~*~  
  
"Father?" Rinyávië found Elrond near the waterfall, his place of relaxation. "Father, I don't mean to interrupt your thoughts…Father?" Elrond hadn't moved from his seat, and suddenly Rinyávië bit her lip and set a hand on his knee. "Father, every year on this day you mourn Isildur. Why must you concern yourself with what you had no control over?"  
  
Elrond smiled at Rinyávië. "I pray that you, my daughter, will never carry the burden of a loss so deep, nor of the loss of so close a friend."  
  
Rinyávië smiled faintly. "Yes, Father, I hope so also. I do not think I would enjoy such a betrayal."  
  
Elrond shifted position and sighed. "You had something you wished to talk about?"  
  
Rinyávië hesitated. "It can wait, Father, until you are ready to hear it."  
  
He waved one hand. "I am ready to hear it now, Rinyávië. What is it you wish to say?"  
  
She smiled. "Father, Legolas has invited me to Mirkwood to be with him for a while."  
  
Elrond returned her smile. "Did he now. Quite curious. Is that all you wished to say? When will you be leaving?"  
  
She raised an eyebrow. "You sound almost eager to have me gone, Father."  
  
He chuckled. "No, my dear, I simply think that you and Legolas would be very happy together. I want happiness for all of my children."  
  
Rinyávië looked satisfied with his answer. "I'm not quite sure when we would leave…or if we even will. You see, Legolas must speak with King Thranduil first…"  
  
Elrond nodded. "Of course. Tell me before you leave, my child, so I can bid you farewell and inform your brothers and sister. Arwen will miss you, I think."  
  
Rinyávië nodded. "Indeed, she will miss me greatly. But soon she will find her own love and will understand."  
  
Elrond nodded, then sank back into the shadows, returning to his musings about his one-time close friend.  
  
~*~  
  
Rinyávië headed to bed, and was stopped outside her door by Legolas, who looked like he was barely concealing a deep excitement.  
  
"Did you speak with your father?" he asked.  
  
Rinyávië nodded. "He asked me to tell him if I will be leaving with you. Have you spoken with your father?"  
  
Legolas nodded instantly. "He says it is a very good idea."  
  
Rinyávië's eyes brightened. "Wonderful! To Mirkwood I will go!" She laughed and nearly threw her arms around Legolas' neck. "This shall be a wonderful journey!"  
  
"It will indeed," he agreed, "For you will be with me." That said, he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her. She was surprised at first, but she moved into his embrace and draped her arms around his neck, returning the kiss. They stood like this for several long minutes, relishing the moment, then finally drew apart for air. At that instant, neither Elf looked flustered or embarrassed; rather, they both looked extremely happy. Legolas pulled a strand of golden hair back from Rinyávië's face and let his fingers trace a path down her cheek. She shivered at his touch but didn't draw away, and he softly kissed her forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow," he whispered gently before turning foot and heading back to his own room.  
  
Rinyávië stood watching him for several seconds, then opened the door to her room, and dazed smile upon her face. She dressed slowly as she slid her nightgown on, still thinking about his kiss and the way his fingers felt against her skin as she climbed into bed. Her final thoughts before she fell asleep lay with the Elven prince, and she slid quickly into a content sleep.  
  
She awoke the next morning with sunlight streaming in her windows, and was at first uncertain why she was awake. Then she remembered the previous night and the gift of travel to Mirkwood and sat up hurriedly. She dressed quickly, donning a tender green gown, which differed from her usual brown and green slacks and tunic. She took half and hour to brush and style her hair, putting small braids in on the sides that gathered together at a point directly in the middle of the back of her head. She paused to look herself over in the mirror, worrying that she didn't look good enough, but forcing herself to think that she was fine.  
  
She hurried down to breakfast as fast as she could with the dainty slipper- shoes on. Neither King Thranduil or Legolas was at breakfast, but her siblings and father were already seated and were waiting for her.  
  
"Am I late?" she asked, sounding surprised.  
  
Elrond shook his head. "You are quite early, actually. I aroused your brothers and sister early, as well, for I have an important announcement to make."  
  
Rinyávië blinked at her father. "I don't understand. Why must they be up so early?"  
  
Elrond smiled. "If you will be patient, I will explain all." He stood up and paced calmly around the table. "Today, we will be losing one of our own, someone very dear to us." Rinyávië suddenly glared at Elrond, knowing what this conversation was all about. Her brothers exchanged blank glances, but Arwen smiled at her sister. "Rinyávië will be leaving us- though for a short while or permanently, we do not know."  
  
"Where will you be going?" Elrohir asked in surprise.  
  
Arwen's grin grew. "To Mirkwood," she supplied.  
  
Elladan glared at Rinyávië. "Mirkwood? Is this true?"  
  
Rinyávië sat down impatiently and scowled. "Yes, Elladan, it is true."  
  
"So you can be with him?"  
  
"No, so I can spend long days by myself," she retorted, annoyed. "Of course I will be with Legolas. And it wouldn't hurt for you to treat him with a bit of respect."  
  
"No," Elrond agreed. "Especially if he will be joining the family soon."  
  
Rinyávië flushed at her father's words and the sudden stares from her siblings. "Nothing has been agreed upon yet! I have merely been invited to Mirkwood to stay with Legolas, and I accepted the offer."  
  
"Of course. That is all that is going on," Elladan sneered. "No wonder you've suddenly taken to dressing nicely and putting your hair up. It makes a nice change."  
  
Rinyávië stared, wounded by her brother's words.  
  
"Please," Elrond interrupted, holding up a hand. "Elladan, be kind with your sister. I thought you supported her happiness."  
  
"Not if that happiness, as you call it, means her leaving us for another Elven family."  
  
"Your sister has enjoyed spending time with Legolas, and he has enjoyed his time spent with her. Clearly-"  
  
"Clearly," Rinyávië snapped, slamming her fork down on the table and rising in anger, "I am not allowed to make my own decisions here, or put in my words about what I want. If you will excuse me, I think I've had enough for now."  
  
She stormed out of the room and headed toward her father's sanctuary by the waterfall in hopes of finding peace. She sat down on the rocks and stared into the small pool at the base of the waterfall, her thoughts taking the form of poetry and song. She sang softly to herself, her words mellow and calm, yet filled with emotion. "One day I'll fly away…leave all this to yesterday…why live life from dream to dream…and dread the day when dreaming ends…"  
  
There was a soft rustle to her left, and she froze, not knowing if anyone had overheard her. She hid herself behind a tree, and watched in mild surprise as Legolas entered the clearing. He sat down on the shore of the pool and began humming to himself, a song Rinyávië was unfamiliar with.  
  
She blinked and moved away from the tree. "What song do you sing, friend?" she asked curiously.  
  
The Elven prince turned and smiled. "One of my own invention."  
  
"Does it have words?" Rinyávië asked playfully.  
  
Legolas smiled. "Indeed, it does. Beautiful words."  
  
"What are they?"  
  
Legolas shook his head. "I cannot tell you all of them, not now. But I will tell you a little."  
  
Rinyávië grinned. "I don't like secrets! Please tell me them all."  
  
Legolas laughed and again shook his head. "I refuse. Here is one line, however: 'How wonderful life is now you're in the world.'"  
  
Rinyávië blinked. "You wrote your song about love?"  
  
"No," Legolas replied. "I wrote it about my love."  
  
Rinyávië flushed. "You did not write a song about me."  
  
"No, indeed I didn't. I said I wrote it about my love. Did I ever mention that you were my love?"  
  
Rinyávië grinned at him. "Ah, I see. Well, I would like to inform you, Mr. Prince, that I don't think I shall take your offer to Mirkwood."  
  
Legolas blanched and reached out to grab her arm. "Of course you are my love. And of course I wrote my song about you."  
  
She sat down next to him on the shore. "I should like to hear it," she murmured, resting her head upon his shoulder. He slipped his arms around her and pulled her close.  
  
"In Mirkwood. I will tell you in Mirkwood." He touched her cheek. "I am not prepared here. And I do not think it would go well with your brother."  
  
Rinyávië closed her eyes and sighed. "My brother indeed. I have grown quite tired of him interfering in my life and presuming that he can order me to do whatever he wants me to do."  
  
"He is worried about you," Legolas pointed out. "He cares greatly for you."  
  
Rinyávië snuggled in closer to Legolas and closed her eyes tighter. "Some days I wish he did not care so much. It grows downright tiresome."  
  
Legolas rested his chin on her head and rocked her back and forth gently. "I pray that you will not grow angry when I care so much," he whispered into her ear.  
  
She smiled. "I could never be angry with you, love," she whispered back. Legolas smiled back, then gently turned her to face him. He touched her cheek gently, then suddenly pulled her into a fierce kiss.  
  
Arwen and Elladan watched their sister and her love from a distance, each with different emotion. Legolas continued to pull Rinyávië closer to him, and his hands stroked her hair and back as he kissed her. Just as Elladan felt he would explode with anger, Arwen grabbed his arm and dragged him away.  
  
"You cannot stop love, Elladan," she pointed out. "You must simply accept that you will be losing your beloved sister to another male. It happens quite often, you know."  
  
He shook his head. "Love makes us act like we are fools- throw our lives away for one happy day…what sense does that make?"  
  
Arwen smiled warmly. "True love makes one happy for a lifetime, brother. Rinyávië was happy before, but should she lose Legolas, she would be miserable for the rest of her existence. Such is the way love works." She met his gaze. "And she could not have chosen a better Elf to fall in love with."  
  
"I can think of a few better," Elladan sniffed. "There's Maldacilion, and Beleththônion. And you mustn't forget Nuinladien. They would all make perfect husbands for Rinyávië."  
  
"They are not what she desires, Elladan. You must not forget that." Arwen chuckled softly. "You fear her leaving Rivendell. It is natural. I, also, do not want her to leave us, but it must be done. You will understand when you choose a wife, but until then, you have no basis for comparison, so let her make her own choices."  
  
"Her own mistakes," Elladan corrected.  
  
"If it be a mistake, then she will learn what that feels like also. Either way, she must go through with this. You cannot stop her- it is not the right thing to do."  
  
Elladan was silent for a few seconds. "I suppose you are correct, as usual, Undómiel." He smiled warmly. "It is her mistake to make. She will realize how wrong she was to lend her heart to him."  
  
That evening, King Thranduil decided that he wanted to set out and travel through the night. Neither Legolas or Rinyávië was ready, and they packed hastily. Rinyávië grabbed a few gowns, several items precious to her, and quickly changed into her riding clothes. She crept to her father's room to borrow his boots and froze when she saw him standing behind her.  
  
"Again, stealing my boots?" he asked, shaking his head.  
  
Rinyávië grinned. "They are comfortable, Father," she admitted. "Especially for riding. My own shoes tire my feet."  
  
Elrond chuckled. "Which is precisely why I had a pair made especially for you." He held out a pair of boots, deep brown in color, and Rinyávië quickly put them on.  
  
"Indeed, they are perfect!" she exclaimed, embracing her father. A sudden sorrow came over her, and she pulled him tighter. "I will miss you, Father," she said quietly. "But I will remember you always, so long as I have my boots."  
  
He laughed and patted her on the back. "My daughter, never will I forget your incredible sense of humor."  
  
Rinyávië bid her family farewell and hopped lightly onto Halcyon's back. The horse nickered in greeting, and Rinyávië patted her shoulder. "My good dear," she cooed softly, "We're going to a new home with King Thranduil and Legolas." Halcyon tossed her head as if giving her opinion, and Rinyávië smiled. "Go on then, dear, walk on."  
  
Halcyon obviously was unimpressed with Thranduil's horse, and snorted at the chestnut stallion. The other horse pawed at the ground with a hoof, and Rinyávië quickly pulled Halcyon away from the other animal.  
  
~*~  
  
They arrived in Mirkwood a few days later, and the curious beauty she felt surprised Rinyávië. Life surrounded her, and she smiled as the trees sang softly in their own curious language. "It is beautiful," she told Legolas contentedly.  
  
The Elf smiled at her. "It is good to be home," he said. The three travelers found their way to the other Elves, and quickly dismounted their horses. Rinyávië let Halcyon go in search of food, and took several looks at her surroundings.  
  
One Elf standing near her bowed. "Milady," he said humbly, "I am Linteloss, servant to the good King and his son. If there is anything I can do…"  
  
She blinked in surprised. "Yes…could you tell me where Legolas has gone?" She was surprised to find her love had vanished from her sight, and a laugh resounded from above her. She looked up to see Legolas hanging upside down from a branch on a nearby tree, a wide smile on his face.  
  
"Here in Mirkwood, we cherish the trees," he laughed. "And we are excellent climbers."  
  
"I can see that," Rinyávië agreed. She studied the tree he was in, then suddenly grabbed a branch and pulled herself onto it. He led the way to the very top of the tree, and she followed close behind him.  
  
"You climb well for one who did not grow up in the forest," he said as they reached the top. She smiled.  
  
"Climbing a tree is not so difficult," she pointed out.  
  
Legolas gestured to the landscape. "It is beautiful, is it not? I come here often, to the top of the trees…it is quite peaceful. I come here to sing," he added, casting a glance at her.  
  
"Sing?" she echoed. "You owe me a song, Legolas. Do you remember?"  
  
"I have not forgotten. I felt that today, in this spot, would be the perfect time and place for my song."  
  
"So sing it," she urged with a laugh.  
  
Legolas smiled warmly. "Are you quite sure you want to hear it?"  
  
She nodded fiercely. "Of course I want to hear it!"  
  
Legolas grinned at her intensity, then bowed his head.  
  
"Never knew I could feel like this  
  
Like I've never seen the sky before  
  
I want to vanish inside your kiss  
  
Every day I'm loving you more and more  
  
Listen to my heart, can you heart it sings  
  
Telling me to give you everything  
  
Seasons may change, winter to spring  
  
But I love you until the end of time  
  
Come what may  
  
Come what may  
  
I will love you until my dying day  
  
Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place  
  
Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace  
  
Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste  
  
It all revolves around you  
  
And there's no mountain too high  
  
No river too wide  
  
Sing out this song I'll be there by your side  
  
Storm clouds may gather  
  
And stars may collide  
  
But I love you until the end of time  
  
Come what may  
  
Come what may  
  
I will love you until my dying day  
  
Oh, come what may, come what may  
  
I will love you, I will love you  
  
Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place  
  
Come what may  
  
Come what may  
  
I will love you until my dying day"  
  
When his song finished, Rinyávië stared at him. "Legolas, never before have I heard a song so beautiful!" Her cheeks were flushed slightly, and she was smiling. "I loved it."  
  
Legolas met her gaze. "It was very simple to write- I merely had to think of you."  
  
Rinyávië's cheeks flushed a darker shade of pink and she grinned. "Some day I will write a song about you, and it will make you weep at the pure beauty of it."  
  
Legolas laughed. "Perhaps at the beauty of your voice, but your song could never match mine." She laughed, then hopped back down to the ground, leaping easily from branch to branch. "You act as if you were raised in the forest," Legolas remarked. "You know the trees well."  
  
Rinyávië glanced up at him. "My mother grew up in the woods. She taught me much about the trees and the forest."  
  
"It shows," Legolas said. He jumped to the ground and landed easily; Rinyávië followed with a slightly harder landing. "You will get used to that," he told her with a grin.  
  
Rinyávië laughed. "Perhaps. And yet, I may never become accustomed to jumping out of trees."  
  
A young Elf came up to the two. "Pardon me, my Lady, my Lord," one said, bowing lightly to them. "Good King Thranduil has asked that you set aside your leisure to speak with him over a fine meal."  
  
Legolas looked at Rinyávië. "Now you will see how a proper meal is conducted."  
  
She shook her head. "It could not be finer than a meal eaten in Rivendell."  
  
The Elf looked at her in wonder. "So it is true! We had heard that our wonderful lady was from the great home of Elrond, but we did not think it was true!"  
  
She smiled at him. "Yes, it is quite true, my friend. I do come from Rivendell."  
  
Legolas grinned. "Bulëlaith, this is Rinyávië, eldest daughter of Lord Elrond. Rinyávië, this is my good friend Bulëlaith."  
  
She bowed her head. "It is a pleasure, good sir."  
  
Bulëlaith looked overjoyed and bowed low. "My Lady, I can truly say that the pleasure is all mine. But to dinner, my Lord!" he cried, motioning them forward.  
  
The dinner was set up splendidly, and Rinyávië looked upon it in wonder. The seats were felled trees, positioned into a circle so each Elf could look upon another. There was a large fire in the middle of the circle, and torches around the seats. Rinyávië smiled delightedly and took a seat next to Legolas. On her other side Bulëlaith sat down. He offered her wine, which she took almost nervously. "Ordinarily, I trust no wine save for my father's," she admitted. "I will not drink even from a wine made by my brother. But I have heard that the Elves of Mirkwood know their wine quite well." She sipped daintily, then laughed. "Indeed, the Elves of Mirkwood do know their wine quite well!"  
  
Food was passed around, and many conversations began. Rinyávië found herself the center of much attention as a visitor from Rivendell, and spent much time describing to Bulëlaith and several other Elves her home. She became fast friends with Sirithquarë, a young woman who was also a good friend of Legolas.  
  
She was in a deep conversation with Sirithquarë about her family origin- the two believed that somewhere along the way they had a common relative- when without warning several short beings burst into the clearing. The lights instantly went out, and Legolas grabbed Rinyávië's hand, dragging her away.  
  
"It is not often we get visitors," he said cautiously. "We will move our feast so they do not interrupt again."  
  
Rinyávië nodded. "It was quite unexpected," she told him. "Never in Rivendell to strange beings suddenly burst in upon dinner."  
  
"Nor in Mirkwood, ordinarily," Sirithquarë muttered.  
  
Within minutes the feasting had begun again, and Rinyávië was all too glad. Her hunger had not been quenched, not with all the talking she had been doing, and she longed to discern just how closely related she and Sirithquarë were. They had managed to narrow the relation down to a possible three aunts when suddenly a solitary figure stumbled into the clearing. "Again!" Rinyávië groaned. She squinted at the creature, surprised to find that it was not a woodland creature nor a dwarf, but something much different. "I shall have to ask Father when I get the chance," she told herself.  
  
The feasting began yet again, and she was suddenly asked to sing a song. She refused at first, not wanting to make a spectacle of herself, but all the Elves were demanding her song, and she agreed. "This song my mother sang to me when I was a very young child," she said shyly.  
  
"Whistle down the wind  
  
Let your voices carry  
  
Drown out all the rain  
  
Light a patch of darkness  
  
Treacherous and scary  
  
Howl at the stars  
  
Whisper when you're sleeping  
  
I'll be there to hold you  
  
I'll be there to stop  
  
The chills and all the weeping  
  
Make it clear and strong  
  
So the whole night long  
  
Every signal that you send  
  
Until the very end  
  
I will not abandon  
  
You my precious friend  
  
So…  
  
Try and stem the tide  
  
Then you'll raise a banner  
  
Send a flare up in the sky  
  
Try to burn a torch  
  
And try to build a bonfire  
  
Every signal that you send  
  
Until the very end  
  
I'm there  
  
So whistle down the wind  
  
For I have always been  
  
Right there."  
  
She finished her song and sat down, slightly flushed, to many praises. "A beautiful song!" Sirithquarë said happily. "It was certainly one of the most beautiful I have ever heard!"  
  
"And one of the most beautiful voices," Bulëlaith added.  
  
Legolas smiled. "Well sung, my friend. Well sung."  
  
King Thranduil nodded down at her from his seat, and Rinyávië smiled back. And then, without warning, a dwarf appeared in the light. Once again there was darkness, and Rinyávië watched as the magic of the Wood-Elves came upon the dwarf, causing him to fall asleep. They dragged him away roughly, and Rinyávië looked at Legolas in surprise.  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
King Thranduil came over to them. "Three times have we been attacked by this fellow and his friends. It is only right for us to lock him away."  
  
Rinyávië studied the dwarf, then shook her head. "I don't believe he was trying to make trouble, my Lord. I believe he was merely hungry. If that is the case, then his friends are certainly also very hungry- hungry and worried now."  
  
Thranduil scowled angrily. "What do you know of dwarves? Have you ever encountered them before?"  
  
Rinyávië nodded. "Many times, yes, of course. I have a small seat on my father's council when he needs-"  
  
"Then you do not know the dwarves for what they truly are!" Thranduil cried. "They are thieves, all of them! They have come to steal my treasure- and I will not let them!"  
  
Rinyávië raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I do not believe they have come to steal your treasure, King, I believe they have come to steal your dinner. There is a great difference."  
  
Thranduil gave her a poisonous look, and Sirithquarë grabbed Rinyávië's shoulders, pulling her new friend away. "They interrupted our meal thrice, Rinyávië. We have captured this dwarf; his companions will soon come after him."  
  
"Six days do not a week make," Rinyávië said stubbornly.  
  
"What does that mean?" Bulëlaith asked blankly.  
  
"It means that though he has come to steal food he is not a thief," she said sorrowfully.  
  
"The daughters of Rivendell have curious ways," Bulëlaith chuckled, sipping a glass of wine.  
  
"As do the sons of Mirkwood," Rinyávië snapped back. "I'm tired, Legolas, may I go to bed?"  
  
"Already she asks him to go to bed," Bulëlaith whispered to Sirithquarë, and both Elves chuckled.  
  
Rinyávië scowled. "How can they take such an atrocity so lightly?" she asked herself. "Certainly the dwarf did nothing wrong."  
  
"You look troubled," Legolas said on the walk to her quarters.  
  
"I am greatly troubled," she replied quietly. "I suppose I have lived a sheltered life, however, and know nothing of the way things truly are, so I do not see what it matters."  
  
Legolas studied her. "It is the dwarf, is it not? What about him troubles you? Are you worried that he will come to steal from you? He is greatly guarded, if it is any condolence. My father will not allow him to escape."  
  
"That is my entire problem!" she blurted. "Oh, Legolas, you cannot understand! The Wood-Elves of Mirkwood and the Elves of Rivendell are accustomed to very different lifestyles. I have met many a dwarf, for my father often calls his council together. Never has a dwarf tried to steal from my belongings, never has a dwarf attempted to rob my home. I do not believe that Thorin Oakenshield would be so quick as to steal from the Elves of Mirkwood- lest he steals food."  
  
Legolas shook his head. "My father has many a great treasure hidden here. The dwarves desire treasure above all things."  
  
She frowned at him. "I still do not see why your treatment of him must be so cruel. I suppose it is the ancient rivalry, but still I do not understand it- nor agree to it. Dwarves and Elves would live quite happily together." Legolas shook his head, but Rinyávië continued talking. "Both are a hard-working, respectable people."  
  
"Never mind," Legolas interrupted. "It can wait until morning."  
  
Rinyávië looked surprised, then sighed. "I suppose. I am quite weary, and a good sleep is much needed on my part."  
  
Legolas smiled and gestured to her bed. Quickly, Rinyávië climbed in, and she smiled sleepily. "Very comfortable."  
  
Legolas bent over and softly kissed her cheek. "May Eärendil smile upon you," he whispered. "Sweetest dreams, my sweet."  
  
They never finished the argument over dwarves. Quickly enough, the other dwarves had been caught, and Rinyávië had to admit that it seemed odd for so many to be in one area. Thranduil would not let her anywhere near them, and soon they vanished entirely.  
  
The days passed quickly- far too quickly for Rinyávië's likes, and soon she found that she had been in Mirkwood for nearly a year.  
  
"I must return home," she told Legolas, "If only for a few days. I miss my family greatly, and I desire very much to see them again. Besides, I don't want my brother to think that you have entirely stolen me from Rivendell. I fear what he would do to you if he came to think that."  
  
Legolas nodded. "I understand. But there is something I want you to think about while you are gone."  
  
Rinyávië looked at him. "Yes?"  
  
He hesitated, then smiled. "Think hard on marriage, Avië."  
  
She stared at him in surprise, then swallowed. "Legolas…"  
  
"I don't want an answer now," he said suddenly. "I want you to think about whether it is a good idea."  
  
She smiled. "I will think about it, but I already know my answer, Legolas. Believe me. It will not change."  
  
He smiled back. "Yes, I figured as much. But I must be certain. Think while you travel."  
  
Rinyávië grinned and patted Halcyon on the neck. "Ride, Halcyon! We are returning home!" The horse took off at full speed, and Rinyávië turned to wave goodbye to Legolas. He waved back, and smiled.  
  
"I believe that soon I will have a wife," he said to himself, and his smile widened.  
  
Rinyávië raced back to Rivendell and arrived quickly enough on Halcyon. Her brother Elrohir greeted her, and the two found Elrond, who was very pleased to see his daughter.  
  
"A long time, it has been," he said, embracing Rinyávië.  
  
She hugged him back. "Not so long," she said quietly. "And I fear it will be even longer after I leave again. I came to inform you that Legolas has proposed marriage to me."  
  
Elrond placed his hands on his daughter's shoulders. "I am very pleased, Rinyávië. Legolas is a worthy husband, and I think the both of you will be very happy together." He smiled. "I believe your brother and sister will be wanting to see you…"  
  
Rinyávië's eyes widened at the mention of her siblings, and she grinned. "Of course! How is Arwen? Is she well?"  
  
Elrond's eyes twinkled. "Better than ever, my dear."  
  
"What do you mean by that?" Rinyávië asked her father suspiciously.  
  
"Come, see for yourself." Rinyávië followed her father to Arwen, and Rinyávië was shocked to see a little baby crawling on the grass near her sister.  
  
"Arwen, you've married?" she cried happily. "Goodness, much has happened in a year!"  
  
The rest of her family burst into laughter, and it was several minutes before Elrond was able to explain about the baby boy. "His name is Estel," he said cheerfully.  
  
"Hope," Rinyávië repeated. "Who is he really?"  
  
Elrond became quite serious. "He is Aragorn II, son of Arathorn II and Gilraen." Elrond met her gaze. "He is the heir of Elendil and Isildur."  
  
Rinyávië stared at her father. "And you have named him Hope?"  
  
Elrond nodded. "He will be great, one day, Rinyávië. He will be great, and he will help us all."  
  
Rinyávië bent down and scooped up the little boy. He giggled at her, then tried to grab her nose; he missed and caught a lock of her golden hair, and tugged as hard as he could. "Ow!" she cried in surprise, wrenching her hair out of his grasp. "Why is the Lord of Gondor here?" she asked her father, grinning as Estel wound his fist around her pinky finger.  
  
"His father has been killed, and his good mother Gilraen thought it would be best if Aragorn stay here." The tiny boy blinked, then suddenly began to cry. "And it appears that our Estel has quite an appetite," Elrond said, scooping the boy up and taking him back into the main house.  
  
Rinyávië looked at Arwen. "Father's taken a liking to the kid, hasn't he?"  
  
Arwen smiled. "He says it is liking raising his own children all over again- only Estel is better behaved."  
  
This elicited a laugh from the elder sister. Both girls glanced at their brothers, then Rinyávië shooed them away with her hand. "I need to talk to Arwen alone. This is time for lady talk, not talk of the lords."  
  
Elladan glanced at Elrohir. "I can see where we're not wanted. Come on, Elrohir, let's go look after the horses."  
  
The younger brother sighed. "You'd better come talk to me before you leave, Rinyávië, or else I'll be really upset with you."  
  
She smiled at him. "Don't worry, I plan on talking to everybody before I leave again. Now go." She waited until they were out of earshot before turning to Arwen once more. "Arwen, you will never believe what Legolas said to me before I left Mirkwood."  
  
"Did he ask for your hand in marriage?" Arwen inquired.  
  
Rinyávië frowned. "There's never hiding anything from you, is there, dearest sister. Yes, Legolas asked me to marry him. He told me to think about it on my journey home-"  
  
"And you plan on saying yes."  
  
"Of course! I love Legolas."  
  
"But are you in love with him?" Arwen countered. "There's a great difference between loving someone and being in love with someone."  
  
Rinyávië scowled. "I don't follow. All I know is that I enjoy spending time with him, and I wish I could spend every day with him."  
  
"But do you want to be with him forever?" Arwen asked her sister. "And how do you feel when you are around Legolas?"  
  
Rinyávië stared. "I feel the way I feel around my good brothers- light- hearted, without a care in the world…he makes me feel happy."  
  
"So…you feel that Legolas could be another brother."  
  
Rinyávië frowned. "I…oh." She rubbed her wrist. "I see. You don't think Legolas and I would be happy together."  
  
Arwen bit her lip. "All I'm saying is that, while you and he would certainly enjoy being together…there may be better husbands out there."  
  
Rinyávië shook her head. "No. Legolas…I love Legolas. It's different with him."  
  
Arwen looked at her sister. "I wish I could help you see, Rinyávië. You and Legolas make the best of friends, but that does not necessarily mean that you will make the best of lovers."  
  
Rinyávië glared at Arwen. "And I don't agree with that. You're starting to sound an awful lot like Elladan."  
  
"Yes, he does not approve of your relationship with Legolas- though for very different reasons. Elladan is become quite jealous of our good Mirkwood friend, because Elladan feels that Legolas is stealing his only sibling who wants the same lifestyle he does. I, on the other hand, simply want you to be happiest, and I believe that a life with Legolas would be only minimally happy."  
  
Rinyávië sighed. "Arwen, if it weren't for your reputation of never having been wrong before, I believe I would cast aside your advice and your feelings. However, since all of your feelings have always been good and helpful…I will think about what you have said. I will think hard, though I still don't believe I will change my mind."  
  
Arwen touched her sister's cheek. "If it helps you to think…remember what you said earlier. Legolas is like a third brother to you, rather than a great lover and husband."  
  
The two women stared at each other, then Rinyávië sighed. "I'll think about it, Arwen. I'm not making any promises- to you or to anybody."  
  
"Promises about what?" They both turned to see their father coming up, Estel in his arms.  
  
"I'll take him," Rinyávië offered, scooping the little boy away from Elrond. She smiled at him. "What a big boy you are already! You'll be very tough some day," she cooed. Estel giggled and waved his hands at her.  
  
"And what a wonderful mother you will be someday…in the near future, I hope," Elrond said suggestively.  
  
Rinyávië frowned. "How much did you overhear, Father?"  
  
He gave her an innocent look. "I merely overheard something about Legolas asking you to marry him…and something about Arwen trying to convince you otherwise. I hope you won't heed her advice."  
  
"We'll see," Rinyávië said. "I have to take all sides into consideration. But for now, I think I would like to play with my little friend." She ruffled Estel's dark hair, giving him a scruffy look. She carried him off to her room and sat him down on the floor. He looked up at her and stared curiously, then began to gurgle in baby talk. "You're awfully loud for one so young," she remarked with a smile. "Perhaps because you've been around my father, eh?" She studied him, then suddenly laughed. "What an incredibly child! Never before have I seen a baby whose babble is so rhythmic! Do you like songs, then, my dear Estel?" she asked him. He giggled at her, and she smiled. "It has been a long while since I've sung a song in Rivendell. I'll teach you this song. It was always one of my favorites, and I'm sure as a Man you will enjoy it, also."  
  
"Growltiger was a bravo cat who traveled on a barge  
  
In fact he was the roughest cat that ever roamed at large  
  
From Gravesend up to Oxford he pursued his evil aims  
  
Rejoicing in his title of 'The Terror of the Thames'  
  
His manners and appearance did not calculate to please  
  
His coat was torn and seedy  
  
He was baggy at the knees  
  
One ear was somewhat missing, no need to tell you why  
  
And he scowled upon a hostile world from one forbidding eye  
  
The cottagers of Rotherthine knew something of his fame  
  
At Hammersmith and Putney people shuddered at his name  
  
They would fortify the henhouse, lock up the silly goose  
  
When the rumor ran along the shore…Growltiger's on the lose!  
  
Woe to the weak canary that fluttered from its cage  
  
Woe to the pampered Pekinese that faced Growltiger's rage  
  
Woe to the bristly Bandicoot that lurks on foreign ships  
  
And woe to any cat with whom Growltiger came to grips  
  
But most to cats of foreign race his hatred had been vowed  
  
To cats of foreign name and race no quarter was allowed  
  
The Persian and the Siamese regarded him with fear  
  
Because it was a Siamese had mauled his missing ear  
  
Now on a peaceful summer night all nature seemed at play  
  
The tender moon was shining bright, the barge at Molesey lay  
  
All in the balmy moonlight it lay rocking on the tide  
  
And Growltiger was disposed to show his sentimental side  
  
Growltiger's bucko mate Grumbuskin long since had disappeared  
  
For to the bell at Hampton he had gone to wet his beard  
  
And his bosun Tumblebrutus he too had stol'n away  
  
In the yard behind the Lion he was prowling for his prey  
  
In the forepeak of the vessel Growltiger sat alone  
  
Concentrating his attention on the Lady Griddlebone  
  
And his raffish crew were sleeping in their barrels and their bunks  
  
As the Siamese came creeping in their sampans and their junks  
  
Growltiger had no eye or ear for aught but Griddlebone  
  
And the Lady seemed enraptured by his manly baritone  
  
Disposed to relaxation and awaiting no surprise  
  
But the moonlight shone reflected from a thousand bright blue eyes  
  
And closer still and closer the sampans circled round  
  
And yet from all the enemy there was not heard a sound  
  
The foe was armed with toasting forks and cruel carving knives  
  
As the lovers sang their last duet in danger of their lives  
  
Then Gilbert gave the signal to his fierce Mongolian hoard  
  
With a frightful burst of fireworks the chinks they swarmed aboard  
  
Then Griddlebone she gave a screech for she was badly skeered  
  
I am sorry to admit it but she quickly disappeared  
  
She probably escaped with ease I'm sure she was not drowned-  
  
But a serried ring of flashing steel Growltiger did surround  
  
The ruthless foe pressed forward, in stubborn rank on rank  
  
Growltiger to his vast surprise was forced to walk the plank  
  
He who a hundred victims had driven to that drop  
  
At the end of all his crimes was forced to go ker-flip, ker-flop  
  
Oh there was joy in Wapping when the news flew through the land  
  
At Maidenhead and Henley there was dancing on the strand  
  
Rats were roasted whole in Brentford and Victoria Dock  
  
And a day of celebration was commanded in Bangkok."  
  
When she finished, Estel looked up at her and gurgled happily. She smiled. "Did you like that, dear?" she asked, stroking his cheek. "Somehow I'm entirely unsurprised." She smiled at him.  
  
"How charming." Rinyávië turned and smiled.  
  
"Hello Father," she greeted cheerfully. "Come to take him away?"  
  
Elrond nodded. "My little Estel is in need of a nap," the elder Elf explained. Estel whimpered and drew himself closer to Rinyávië.  
  
"Smart little guy," she cooed. "I know you don't want to, but Daddy knows best."  
  
Elrond chuckled as Estel held out his arms to be picked up by Elrond. "Pity you were never such a simple child," he said to Rinyávië. "It would have made my life much easier."  
  
Rinyávië grinned. "It's my job to make your life difficult, Father." Estel grabbed at Elrond's hair and tugged as hard as he could. Rinyávië laughed when her father yelped in pain. "Estel, behave!" she said tenderly. Immediately, the boy let go of Elrond's hair.  
  
Elrond looked up at Rinyávië. "Impressive, child. It seems he has already bonded with you."  
  
Rinyávië bit her lip. "Perhaps I could stay and help you raise him…" she suggested nervously.  
  
"What about Legolas?" Elrond asked absently.  
  
"Oh, he can…" Rinyávië stopped in mid-sentence.  
  
"He can what?" Rinyávië looked down at her hands and blinked in shock. "Rinyá? Legolas can what?"  
  
She stared at her father. "Wait," she whispered. "Legolas…Legolas can wait." She turned away. "Excuse me." She pushed past Elrond and hurried to her sister's room.  
  
Rinyávië didn't bother knocking but shoved the door open. Arwen was singing lightly to herself but turned when she realized Rinyávië was in the room. "Is something wrong?" she asked in fear.  
  
Rinyávië shook her head. "You were right."  
  
"About what?" Arwen looked confused.  
  
"You were right about Legolas…I…he…we can't…it won't work," she finished hoarsely.  
  
Arwen gave her sister a sympathetic look and embraced her as Rinyávië burst into tears. "That's nothing to be sorrowful about, dear," Arwen said gently. "Many people find that they don't truly love the person they think they love." She touched Rinyávië's cheek. "This simply means that there is another out there, one who is better for you." She smiled warmly. "But tell me, how did you find out so quickly that I was indeed correct?"  
  
Rinyávië told her that she had suggested staying for a while to help raise Estel. "When Father mentioned Legolas, I instantly pushed him aside in my head and I said that he could wait." Rinyávië looked into Arwen's clear blue eyes. "That is not love, Arwen. I don't know…I can't exactly explain what I feel for Legolas, now that I know I do not love him."  
  
Arwen smiled. "You feel love for Legolas. You love him, but you are not in love with him. Remember, dearest sister, there is a difference. I hope you break the news to him gently."  
  
Rinyávië looked up in shock. "I can't tell Legolas!" she exclaimed. "That…I simply couldn't hurt him that way."  
  
"So instead you would leave him wondering what was wrong, where you were, if you were even still alive?"  
  
Rinyávië glared at Arwen. "I couldn't tell him, Arwen. Legolas truly loves me. I know he does."  
  
"He, too, will find another," Arwen said softly. "It will take time, for both of you, but there will be another for you. Fear not, sister, this will not kill Legolas. He'll live through it." The sisters' gazes met and they smiled at each other.  
  
"Arwen, you are a far wiser woman then I will ever be," Rinyávië said tenderly. "I envy you that."  
  
Arwen smiled. "And I envy you your strength. I know I would never be able to return to Mirkwood and tell Legolas that I simply wanted to remain good friends with him."  
  
"No, you couldn't, and I can't either," Rinyávië said. "I could never tell him that I wanted to 'stay friends.' That phrase seems a bit hackneyed."  
  
Arwen blinked. "Then what will you tell him?"  
  
Rinyávië thought for a second. "I will tell him that I love him but I cannot marry him, for our love is not a love for marriage, it is the love of two people who understand each other like nobody will ever understand the lovers again."  
  
Arwen smiled. "I don't know how he will react to such a statement, but it is indeed better than saying that you simply wanted to remain friends. More poetic, I think."  
  
Rinyávië nodded. "Indeed, much more so. Come, Arwen. Will you help me to find our brothers and our father? I believe they will be quite interested by this curious turn of events."  
  
"And you will stay here to help raise Estel?" Arwen asked.  
  
Rinyávië raised her eyebrows. "I…don't think so, somehow. For some reason, staying in Rivendell does not seem…right. I don't suppose I'm making any sense."  
  
"You are, Rinyávië. Where will you go instead? Will you stay in Mirkwood?"  
  
Rinyávië shook her head. "No, I…I believe I shall travel to…" She smiled suddenly. "The land of Lothlórien."  
  
Arwen's eyes brightened. "To visit the Lady and Lord of the Woods, our wonderful Grandparents?"  
  
Rinyávië nodded. "I have longed to see them once again for many years now, as well as to see my old friend Haldir. I miss them greatly, and I think it will help me to sort my feelings and thoughts, if I go to visit them. The good Lady Galadriel is always full of good advice, and my Lord Celeborn is full of merriment. I shall find peace and ease in Lothlórien."  
  
Arwen smiled. "And what of Haldir? Is he an old admirer?"  
  
Rinyávië laughed. "No, sister, he is the one who taught me the fine art of bow and arrow, and how to make these. He showed me the way through the Woods, and remained a close companion when I was in the Land of Lórien. My heart longs to hear his voice once more."  
  
Arwen embraced her sister. "Will you be staying much longer?"  
  
Rinyávië hesitated. "I don't intend to." She paused. "In fact, I mean to leave right now. I know Father is expecting me to stay for dinner, and my good brothers long for news, but I do not think I could bear to be around them for very long."  
  
Arwen nodded. "I'll tell them you felt you had to leave, and that I'm not sure when you'll return. Will that be all right?"  
  
Rinyávië smiled. "Perfect." She set her hands on Arwen's shoulders. "My little sister, I'm very much glad that you're here. I don't know how I'd survive without you."  
  
Arwen smiled back. "Neither do I," she said lightly. "Now hurry. Will you take Halcyon?"  
  
"Of course," Rinyávië replied. "Thank you, Arwen. I will return, I promise."  
  
She hurried away from Arwen's room, then quickly headed to the meadows to find Halcyon. The horse was grazing, and Elladan stood beside her.  
  
"I knew it," he said quietly. "You never meant to stay for very long, did you?"  
  
Rinyávië bit her lip. "I did, Elladan, until…well, until I realized that Legolas and I were not going to marry."  
  
Elladan's eyes lit up. "You're not? This is indeed good news!" Rinyávië glared at him. "I mean, not necessarily good…but we will not be losing our dear Rinyávië."  
  
Rinyávië shook her head. "I need to return to Mirkwood to tell Legolas, and I mean to travel on to Lórien after that. I don't think I shall spend much time there, but it will put my heart at ease."  
  
Elladan stared at her. "I don't suppose you'll ever return home, will you?" he said sadly.  
  
Rinyávië smiled weakly. "I don't know, Elladan. My heart yearns for other places…other travels…"  
  
Elladan grabbed her arm. "Rinyávië, don't go to Lórien. Come home. You will need it, and we already to need it- you. Everybody misses you terribly; there has never been another quite like you, though many have tried. We want you to come home and stay for a while."  
  
"I think Lórien would be better for me, Elladan."  
  
"Yes, but in Lórien, your brothers are far away, your sister is far away, your father is far away…and so is Estel, for that matter." Rinyávië turned slightly. "I've heard the little fellow's taken a liking to you, Rinyá. Please, after you leave Mirkwood, come back home."  
  
Rinyávië met his gaze. "Fine," she said quietly. "If it will make you happy, I will return. But now…now I must leave; I must return to Mirkwood to tell my good friend the terrible news." She sighed. "This is a journey I do not look forward to."  
  
She sprang lightly onto Halcyon's back and whispered softly to the horse, urging her forward. Elladan waved until she was completely out of sight, then sighed. "Oh, dearest sister, what have we gotten ourselves into?"  
  
~*~  
  
Rinyávië arrived in Mirkwood tired and hungry, having barely stopped for any reasons. She wanted this trip over and done with; she wanted to get there and hurry home.  
  
Sirithquarë greeted her. "Rinyávië!" she exclaimed. "Oh, Rinyávië, we've heard the news!"  
  
Bulëlaith came running up. "You're here!" he said, laughing. "Good, we've been waiting for you to return!"  
  
Rinyávië climbed down from Halcyon and frowned. "I don't understand."  
  
Sirithquarë laughed. "You're so modest, Rinyávië! We're talking about the wedding!"  
  
Rinyávië froze. "Wedding?" she echoed in horror. "Legolas has called the wedding?"  
  
Bulëlaith chuckled. "He said you practically gave him the answer before you left, so he began to organize things for your return. It's so wonderful! But why isn't your family here to watch this extraordinary event? Certainly your father at least would want to give you to Legolas."  
  
"Where is he?" Rinyávië asked numbly.  
  
"Your father?" Bulëlaith asked. "Well, he's probably back at Riven-"  
  
"No," Rinyávië interrupted impatiently. "Legolas. I have to talk to him."  
  
"Is something wrong?" Sirithquarë asked worriedly. "You're acting awfully strange, Rinyávië."  
  
"No, nothing's wrong," she assured her friends. "I just need to talk to Legolas."  
  
Sirithquarë grinned. "No worries, then! He's by the river, resting and waiting, I believe."  
  
Rinyávië ran fast as she could to the river, and nearly cried out when she couldn't see Legolas. Then, with superb grace and ease, he leapt down from a nearby tree, and Rinyávië gasped. "Legolas!" she exclaimed.  
  
"My dear, you've come back! Far sooner than we expected, but what does it matter? At least you're here and things can get underway."  
  
"Legolas-" she began.  
  
"Now, I'm sure you've already heard that I've begun planning for the wedding. It will be spectacular, I'm sure. The ceremony will happen right here, or perhaps on the other bank; I'm not quite certain of that yet. We'll have to set everything up soon, though," he said worriedly. "I hadn't expected you for another week, assuming you'd want to stay and talk to your family."  
  
"Legolas…"  
  
"Your family will be seated all together, as it should be, but they will be mixed in among our friends from Mirkwood. Of course, any of your friends who came with will be seated there, as well."  
  
"Legolas," she tried again, her voice growing pained.  
  
"My own clothing has already been completely sewn; yours will be finished in a few hours, I believe. You're going to adore your gown, Rinyávië. It's a beautiful silken green, with gold lining."  
  
"Legolas, there's not going to be any wedding," Rinyávië said quietly.  
  
"Of course there will- what?" he said, staring at her as her words sank in.  
  
"I can't…" She swallowed. "I can't marry you."  
  
He sat down on a log. "Why?"  
  
Rinyávië turned her back to him. "Because I don't love you that way," she whispered.  
  
Legolas stared in silence for several long seconds. "You said you loved me." Rinyávië burst into tears at his wounded tone.  
  
"I did! I do…I love you, Legolas, I truly do…but…there's a difference between being in love with somebody and simply loving them." She wiped her tears away. "Legolas, you're very dear to me, but…but there seem to be more important things in my life."  
  
He came over and took her hand. "No, Rinyávië," he said gently, tears swelling in his eyes now. "We…we have a love like nobody else…we're meant for each other."  
  
She pulled her hand out of his. "No, Legolas," she whispered softly. "We're meant to be friends, maybe, but nothing more. Nothing more," she repeated sadly. "And…I'm sorry, I wish things could have turned out differently, but the fact remains…"  
  
"You don't love me." His voice was flat.  
  
"I know you've put in a lot of work for this wedding…"  
  
"You have no idea," he said shortly. "Is that all you came here to say? That you've suddenly stopped loving me?" He glared at her. "What happened, Rinyávië? Is there someone else?"  
  
Rinyávië swallowed. "Not exactly," she said softly. She turned to face him and choked on her words when she saw the tears falling from his eyes now as well. She drew in a sharp breath and swiped at her eyes. "I…I think I need to-"  
  
"Leave?" he said. "Good idea."  
  
Rinyávië stared at him. "Legolas, I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you…"  
  
"Too late," he snapped. He looked at her hurt expression and his face fell. "I'm sorry it didn't work out," he said forcefully. "I think you need to leave now and return to your home." He turned and strode away into the woods, leaving Rinyávië alone, tears streaming from her eyes. There was a long silence while Rinyávië stared after Legolas, then she sat down by the bank of the river and sighed. She gazed into it sorrowfully, tears falling steadily down her cheeks, when suddenly Sirithquarë came running up with Bulëlaith just behind her.  
  
"Rinyávië?" Sirithquarë asked, eyeing her friend worriedly. "Is something wrong?"  
  
Rinyávië shook her head. "No, I just…I need to be alone."  
  
Bulëlaith snorted. "The last thing you need is to be alone. C'mon, we'll go find Legolas, and the four of us-"  
  
"No!" Rinyávië said sharply. She swallowed. "No, I really need to be alone."  
  
Sirithquarë frowned. "Bulëlaith, go away," she snapped. When the Elf looked at her, Sirithquarë gave him a fierce look. "Now." She rolled her eyes in the direction of Rinyávië.  
  
"Oh!" Bulëlaith said, catching on. "Right. I'll just…be off now…" He turned, whistling, and hurried away, leaving the two women alone.  
  
Sirithquarë sat down next to Rinyávië and embraced her. "What happened?" she asked gently. "Did Legolas say something to you?"  
  
Rinyávië wiped a tear from her eyes. "We both said things that we shouldn't have said," she replied softly. "But it's too late now to take them back. The harm as been done, and there is nothing left to do but leave and remember."  
  
Sirithquarë pulled Rinyávië tighter. "What happened, Rinyávië? Legolas is not one to get easily angered, and neither are you. What fueled this?"  
  
Rinyávië sighed. "Estel," she said sadly. Sirithquarë looked confused. "He's…a little boy, a Man," Rinyávië explained quietly. "His father died, and my own agreed to take him in and raise him, not telling him of who…of what…of who he really is."  
  
"Who is he?" Sirithquarë asked, her curiosity sparked.  
  
"He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn," Rinyávië supplied. "The heir of Elendil and Isildur."  
  
Sirithquarë's eyes widened. "What does he have to do with anything?" she asked.  
  
Rinyávië sighed. "I volunteered to help my father raise the boy, but he reminded me of Legolas…and I realized how unimportant Legolas seemed at that moment. Certainly, if I truly loved Legolas, I would have completely ignored Estel, but…but I did not. I love Legolas, yes," she admitted, "But I am not in love with him, not anymore, at least. There is a more important mission ahead of me now."  
  
"Raising Estel." Both women turned. Legolas was standing by the edge of the forest, Bulëlaith just behind him.  
  
"I tried to tell him to leave you alone," Bulëlaith squeaked.  
  
Rinyávië stared at Legolas. "Estel is very important to us all, Legolas," she said quietly.  
  
"Why?" Legolas asked, his voice equally quiet. "So that he can prove just how weak Men truly are?"  
  
Rinyávië shook her head. "He will be stronger than Isildur, for he is being raised by Elrond the Halfelven."  
  
"And this makes all the difference in the world, I suppose. Were you not raised by Elrond the Halfelven?" Rinyávië stared into his eyes. "And you did not turn out strong; you are cowardly, and you run when there is a strong commitment needed of you."  
  
"That is not true," Rinyávië said sharply. "That is far from the truth, and you know it is not true, Legolas."  
  
Legolas jerked his thumb toward the forest. "Your horse is in there. I suggest you leave as fast as you can."  
  
Sirithquarë opened her mouth to speak but no sound came out. "I will leave," Rinyávië said shortly. "I know where I am not welcome."  
  
Her three friends watched her head into the woods to find Halcyon. The second she was out of earshot, Sirithquarë turned on Legolas. "How could you do that to her?" she hissed. "Rinyávië was trying to do what was best for the both of you!"  
  
"And how is turning down a promise such as the one she made good for us?" Legolas asked, suddenly looking very old and weary.  
  
"She never promised," Sirithquarë said. "She could not have promised herself to you; not if she felt she had to excuse herself from marriage. Had she promised to marry you, she would have done it, despite any other emotions she felt." Sirithquarë turned to walk away. "You've lost one of the best friends you will ever had, Legolas. She will never want to speak with you again, and in a thousand years, when you most desire to be near her, you will find that she will not even look in your direction."  
  
~*~  
  
Rinyávië knew she had promised Elladan she would return home, but her spirits had been so crushed that she felt she couldn't. She sent a messenger, a small swallow, to Rivendell with a note of apology. It read,  
  
My dearest family~  
  
How my heart longs to be with you now. I miss you with all my soul, but I fear I cannot return. No, I am not ill ,nor in any type of danger, save from myself. I have not been hurt, not in the sense you will fear, but rather it is an emotional pain I am suffering, and I am not yet ready to return home to you. I hope you do not worry; I will be quite safe where I am going.  
  
Though you desire it, I would ask that you please not attempt to visit me, though I welcome messages of any kind.  
  
I am going to Lórien. I do not know when I will return home, though I hope my heart will be calmed soon by the Golden Wood and the peace of my Lord and Lady of Lórien.  
  
Elladan, I know I promised you that I would return after my trip to Mirkwood, and I'm terribly sorry. I ask that you not be angry with me, for I must go to Lothlórien now, else suffer eternally.  
  
Please, do not fear for me, especially you, Elladan. I give you my word I will send another message when I have reached Lórien. You needn't worry.  
  
I send all my love~  
  
Rinyávië  
  
Rinyávië hopped onto Halcyon's back and whispered softly to the horse. "Come, darling, to Lórien." Halcyon nickered softly and took off as fast as she could.  
  
The land of Lórien was a welcome sight to Rinyávië and Halcyon, who sped up when the Woods came into sight. Rinyávië knew that several Elves would be patrolling the outer edge of the forest, as they always did to protect their home, but since very few of them did not know her, she didn't pause to call to them. She jumped down from Halcyon's back and led the horse through the woods until suddenly someone grabbed her arm.  
  
"I do not know how you have managed to get so far into this Wood," he said calmly, "But do not expect to travel much further." She did not recognize the Elf, and that seemed to anger her.  
  
Rinyávië glanced down at his hand, then calmly pulled her arm loose from his grip. "I do not know why you think I am such a danger if the sentries on the edge of the forest felt it was safe for me to travel through," she replied. The Elf opened his mouth to speak but found he had no response. From the left another Elf joined the two. "Haldir!" Rinyávië exclaimed in relief.  
  
He bowed slightly. "My Lady, it is a pleasure to see you again, though I am quite confused. Why have you come?"  
  
Rinyávië sighed. "I need rest, my friend," she said gently. "I need to be among my good friends and my dear Grandmother."  
  
The third Elf looked started. "Grandmother?" he echoed, stunned. "I…My Lady!" he said, bowing low.  
  
Rinyávië smiled at him. "What is your name?"  
  
"I am Táralindë," he replied.  
  
Rinyávië smiled. "That is a beautiful name, good sentry," she told him, then returned her attention to Haldir. "My good friend," she said, then suddenly embraced him. "Never before have I felt so glad to see you."  
  
Haldir chuckled and returned the embrace. "Nor I, Rinyávië. Come, then, to the Lady, I suppose."  
  
Rinyávië followed Haldir to her grandparents, and was amused to find that Celeborn was reading while Galadriel sat sewing. "My Lord and Lady," Haldir said lightly, "I present the good Lady Rinyávië."  
  
Both instantly looked up, and Celeborn smiled warmly. "Rinyávië!" he greeted. "What brings you to Lórien?"  
  
Rinyávië bowed her head. "I'm afraid I'm rather troubled," she responded. "I come seeking peace."  
  
Celeborn pulled her into his embrace. "What troubles you, child?" he asked.  
  
Galadriel came down and drew Rinyávië away from Celeborn. "Such things can wait," she said tenderly. "You look hungry, my dear. Would you like something to eat, and some wine perhaps?"  
  
Rinyávië smiled. "Yes, thank you greatly."  
  
Within minutes a picnic had been set out for Celeborn, Galadriel, and Rinyávië, and Rinyávië looked quite pleased. "It will be incredible to once again eat the wonderful food of Lórien," she said, looking more relaxed than she had in the past few days. "And to drink the wine once more!" she added with a chuckled.  
  
Rinyávië stayed in Lórien for a long while and nearly forgot about her home and family, but suddenly Arwen appeared in Lothlórien. The younger Elf felt separated from her sister and, though Rinyávië was not pleased to see her at first, she was quick to realize how much she had missed her little sister.  
  
Many long years passed before their family missed them terribly, and Elladan and Elrohir sought them out. The brothers convinced Arwen to return at least for a short time to Rivendell, while Rinyávië refused. Finally they decided they would have to drag her back home, and made plans in hushed whispers on how to do so.  
  
She fled. Unable to return to her father and risk seeing Legolas, fearful of the pain she would feel if they ever met again, she begged Celeborn to give her a small canoe. After much hesitation he agreed, and she set out down the Great River Anduin. Galadriel warned Rinyávië of the dangers of the Sea and the gulls, and Rinyávië promised she would be very careful.  
  
It was nearly thirty years later when her travels led her to many wonderful places, and she spent much time in Rohan, learning the language and ways of the Men. She found them to be quite curious and amusing people, and their tongue was harsh to her, but they were quite polite and well-mannered (unlike many other peoples she had known), and though she was quite different, they welcomed her. Her dearest friend by far was the fair Eowyn, a woman unlike any Rinyávië had met. The two were so much alike that they quickly became friends, though Rinyávië was surprised by the other's sharp tongue and extreme fierceness.  
  
Upon her department of Rohan, Eowyn gave her a horse named Tioq, but Rinyávië renamed him "Remus," a name she had heard often and found beautiful.  
  
Remus accepted her instantly, but though the two became close, Rinyávië still missed Halcyon with all her heart. The two, master and beast, found their way to Minas Tirith, which Rinyávië had long desired to see. The city was full of bustling people hurrying from one place to the next, and she was quite appalled by the state of the city itself. While she was used to only beauty, much of Minas Tirith was far from gorgeous. Certainly it was a spectacle to see, and an amazing sight, but still Rinyávië was not certain she liked the look of the city.  
  
Night was falling fast on her first day in Minas Tirith, and she decided that she wanted to sleep in a real bed for once. She found a small inn but was quickly confronted with a problem: she had no money to pay for a room. She found the concept of money puzzling in itself, but she was tired and hungry and simply could not understand why the man behind the counter would not allow her a bed and a meal.  
  
"It's only proper," she said, her temper rising, "For a lady to get bed and breakfast."  
  
"Keep this up," the bartender snarled, "And you'll get a bed, but you sure won't enjoy it."  
  
Rinyávië glared at him. "I can see that here in such a glorious city people do not care for each other," she growled, "But that is not my concern. I am tired, and I am hungry, and I must have a place to spend the night. I do not see the difficulty with my request."  
  
"The difficulty is that you can't pay the man," somebody behind her said. Rinyávië turned to see a medium-sized blonde young man smirking. "Dalk, give the lady her bed and breakfast, and dinner if she wants it. I'll pay."  
  
The bartender scowled. "As you wish."  
  
The man led Rinyávië away from Dalk and set her down at a small table for two. "I'm Melilot," he said, holding out his hand.  
  
"Rinyávië," she replied, shaking his proffered hand. "Thank you for your services, it was very kind of you. I am pleased to learn that not all Men are so selfish." Dalk, who was pouring a drink, sneered but said nothing.  
  
"Yeah, well, we can't all be sweet young souls like myself," Melilot said, slightly flushed. "Besides, it was no big deal. A room and dinner here isn't very expensive." He bit his lip. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be insulting."  
  
Rinyávië looked blank for a moment, then suddenly nodded. "You were not insulting, I simply carry nothing of value to Men with me. It is a mistake I will be careful not to repeat in the future…once I find something of value to Men."  
  
Melilot smiled. "Anything with gold is good," he said. "Silk is, as well, and rare herbs are prized for those who can sell them later to a Herb- master."  
  
Rinyávië nodded slowly as she finished her meal. "Indeed…I will keep that in mind." She paused, then smiled. "Perhaps you know of such a man? I have a rare herb that I carry with me for healing purposes, and if it is of value…"  
  
"I can sell it," Melilot offered. "Depending on what it is. You might think you've got something rare and valuable, but you might not."  
  
Rinyávië pulled out her pouch and handed him a bit of athelas plant. "It is very valuable," she told him.  
  
Melilot stared down at it. "Kingsfoil?" he said doubtfully, then handed it back. "I couldn't get so much as a penny for this."  
  
Rinyávië frowned at him, but shook her head. "Indeed, Men certainly are strange folk."  
  
Melilot laughed. "And you, my friend, are even stranger for believe that kingsfoil is of some sort of use!" Rinyávië shook her head but didn't pursue the subject. "So tell me," Melilot began. "What is a girl like you doing in a place like this? You look- and act- like a woman accustomed to rich living." Rinyávië chuckled softly, and Melilot's smile widened. "You know, you've got a really beautiful voice. I bet you can sing excellently, as well."  
  
Rinyávië smiled. "I have been told that my voice is far more beautiful than many have heard, but I do not believe it."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Rinyávië set her mug down and sighed. "I was told this by a former acquaintance, a lover. Our romance turned sour, and…now I wonder if all he said was true or merely brought on by love."  
  
Melilot shrugged. "Who can tell? It might be a bit of both. You should sing something for me so I can tell you the truth."  
  
Rinyávië shook her head. "No, not tonight. Perhaps later, but now I am quite tired. I would like to head up to bed…"  
  
Melilot nodded. "Of course, silly me! After all that trouble over a bed, and me not even letting you get one. What a fool I can be sometimes."  
  
Rinyávië smiled. "A helpful fool, to be sure."  
  
Melilot grinned. "Can I come by to see you tomorrow? I'll bring a close friend, he'll want to meet you. And if he likes you, maybe you can spend your nights at his home."  
  
Rinyávië felt her heart sink at the suggestion, but knew where it was truly brought up from. This young Melilot has fallen in love with me, though for my looks or my personality, I do not know. "I would enjoy that very much," she said with a slight yawn. "What is the name of your good friend?"  
  
"Boromir," Melilot replied, beaming. "His name is Boromir. I'll bring him here around midday tomorrow, if that's all right."  
  
Rinyávië nodded as she headed to her room. "That's quite fine," she replied. "I will see you then." Her final thought as she fell asleep was, Why do I recognize the name of Boromir?  
  
The next morning she awoke to the soft sounds of birds chirruping, and she dressed quickly before heading down to breakfast. She chose a soft green gown, something that was nice by the standards of Men, but not overly nice by the standards of the Elves.  
  
The bartender greeted her almost nervously, then attempted to make small conversation with her. "An acquaintance of Lord Boromir, eh?" he said lightly. "We don't get many friends of his in here." Rinyávië nodded but didn't reply, uncertain of what to say. Though she did not personally know who Boromir was, the title reminded her of why she recognized his name. Boromir was the eldest son of Lord Denethor, Steward of Minas Tirith. Boromir's younger brother was the noble warrior Faramir, whom many respected but few knew. Their names were well known in Lothlórien, for the Elves kept a careful watch on Men. Boromir was not old, barely twenty, she recalled, very youthful, even for a Man. She thought for a few seconds, then suddenly realized that her math was wrong. Boromir was closer to forty years old now, for she had been away from Rivendell and Lothlórien for a long time, though it was short by her account. If Boromir is forty then, she said to herself, That means that Estel is near 60! She shook her head. He is growing old for a Man, but his time has not yet come. Soon, Rinyávië, soon Estel- no, no longer Estel, Aragorn. Soon Aragorn would take his place as King of Gondor, his rightful place on the throne. It might not happen for another twenty or thirty years, but that gives time enough for him to begin a family of greatness.  
  
Her thoughts were interrupted by a fierce shaking of her shoulder. She blinked in vague surprise, then gazed up at Melilot. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I did not realize it was nearly noon."  
  
"It isn't, I just came early. Boromir has some matters to attend to around noon, and we thought it would be more convenient to simply meet with you now!"  
  
Rinyávië fought back a frown and a biting comment ("What if I had something else to see to right now?") and instead smiled at the powerfully built man standing next to Melilot. "My Lord," she said, raising a fist to her chest and bowing lightly from her waist in respect, "It is a great honor and pleasure."  
  
Boromir stared for a second, then shook his head. "Nay, milady, the pleasure is entirely mine!"  
  
"Hold out your hand," Melilot whispered to Rinyávië, and she looked startled but complied instantly. Boromir took her hand and raised it to his lips. Rinyávië looked uncertain as to how to respond, but soon found that she didn't need to.  
  
"My good lady," Boromir said, taking a seat next to her, "My companion-" he gestured to Melilot "-tells me that you are in need of a home for some time."  
  
Rinyávië nodded, all business. "Yes, Lord, if it is no trouble to you."  
  
"Of course not!" Boromir exclaimed. He smiled warmly. "You are quite welcome in this house." He grinned. "I'd take you there now, but I daresay you'd prefer to see the city a bit?"  
  
Rinyávië blinked at the thought, then nodded. "That is quite a good suggestion. I would love a tour."  
  
Boromir froze, then quickly widened his grin. "Of course!"  
  
"Not what he had in mind," Melilot snickered, "But he'd be glad to help out."  
  
The two Men led Rinyávië around Minas Tirith, waiting until the very end to take her to the market, where all sorts of trinkets were sold. "Feel free to look around as much as you like," Boromir told her. She had merely smiled before heading off to study the curious objects the people found to be of value. Melilot and Boromir trailed after her, talking in hushed whispers that no Human would have heard, though Rinyávië's sensitive Elf ears picked up every word of their conversation.  
  
"What did I tell you?" Melilot hissed. "She's incredible!"  
  
Boromir chuckled. "Yeah, she is. I don't think I've ever believed in love at first sight until I met her."  
  
"Told you! I told you! She has that kind of an effect on people. Aren't you glad I decided that you couldn't wait to meet her?"  
  
Boromir sighed. "She's a bit above the bar, even for a fellow like me. If she met Faramir, however…"  
  
"No. She's perfect for you, Bori, lad."  
  
"Don't call me that."  
  
"Don't try to change the subject. You like her. She thinks you're nice. Ask her to marry you!"  
  
Boromir laughed. "It doesn't quite work that way. What if I find out that she's a horrible person?"  
  
"What if you find out that she's a really sweet, absolutely perfect person?" Rinyávië could almost see the sly grin spread across Melilot's face. "Or what if you find out that she's not a person at all?"  
  
"And what do you mean by that?" Boromir asked dryly.  
  
"No person could be as perfect as she is. She has to be sent from another world."  
  
"You're incredibly stupid, Melilot."  
  
"You like her, you like her!"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"I knew it! Should I start making the wedding plans?"  
  
Rinyávië suddenly felt she had heard enough of their conversation and turned sharply. "I'm finished!" she called out. Both Men quit their argument and smiled.  
  
"Ready to return home?"  
  
Melilot fought back a grin. "We are your humble escorts, Lady," he said sweetly, holding out his arm. "Well, I am, at least. May I lead you home? Or maybe you're too tired and would like a ride?"  
  
Boromir glared at Melilot, but Rinyávië smiled at the Steward. "I'm afraid I do not accept rides by any but a horse, good sir, so unless you would like to get down on your hands and knees…"  
  
"Ouch, the lady has wit!" He gave Boromir a significant look, but Boromir chose to ignore him.  
  
The House of Boromir and his family was quite grand, but Boromir insisted on searching for his father to introduce him to the newest member of the Household. Old Denethor was in the gardens ("The last place I expected him to be," Boromir muttered) gazing at the trees.  
  
"Ah, Father?" Boromir asked. "Fath-"  
  
"No need to shout, no need to shout, I can hear you, my boy. What is it?"  
  
"Father, we have a guest…Father?"  
  
"I heard you! I did. Now, let's see…I already know Melilot! What are you doing bringing him before me?"  
  
"Actually, my Lord," Rinyávië said tentatively, "I am the guest in your gracious Home."  
  
Denethor turned his gaze to her and blinked in surprise. "Boromir's getting married?"  
  
"No!" he practically shouted. "No, Father. This is the Lady Rinyávië. She is new to Minas Tirith and is staying with us for a while."  
  
Denethor stared hard at Rinyávië, then waved his hand. "Boromir, Melilot, go away. I want to have private words with the lady." He waited until both had left before addressing Rinyávië. "Tell me, my dear, what brings you to Minas Tirith?"  
  
She shrugged lightly. "I am travelling, My Lord, and my travels brought me here."  
  
He gestured to the door through which his son and his son's friend had exited. "They might not be smart enough to figure it out, but I can see right off that you're an Elf. From where do you come?"  
  
She smiled. "Imladris, Lord. Rivendell."  
  
"Ah, yes…the home of…of…"  
  
"Elrond, Sir. He is my father."  
  
"Yes, yes, that's right. Elrond. I'm not quite as familiar with Rivendell as I am with the Golden Woods-"  
  
"Aye, my grandfather and grandmother dwell in the Woods, Sir," Rinyávië supplied.  
  
"Well-mannered, I can see. Tell me, how did you fall in the company of my son?"  
  
"It was through his friend, Lord. Melilot paid for my room last night, as well as my dinner and breakfast, and introduced me to Boromir this morning."  
  
"How the devil did a woman- excuse me, an Elf like you wind up taking charity from a fellow like Melilot?"  
  
Rinyávië shook her head. "I'm afraid I simply don't know that, Lord, but I am very grateful to him."  
  
Denethor smiled warmly, and Rinyávië saw how much alike he and Boromir appeared. "Well, my dear, you are very welcome in this House. I can only hope that Melilot will treat you with respect."  
  
Rinyávië laughed lightly. "He is quite amusing. He reminds me of my brothers."  
  
The door burst open. "Father, see what I have…oh." The young Man standing in the doorway froze and blushed. "I…I did not mean to interrupt.  
  
"Faramir, when the door is closed, even to my gardens, does it not mean that I wish to be alone?"  
  
"Yes, Father," the younger said shyly. "I'm terribly sorry."  
  
Rinyávië couldn't help feeling pity for the young man, and she smiled warmly. "You must be the other child of Denethor. I am Rinyávië."  
  
"Faramir," he replied, and Rinyávië held out her hand. Faramir took it and gently kissed her knuckles. "The pleasure is great, Lady," he said, looking a bit flustered.  
  
There was a moment of awkward silence, then she bowed slightly. "I can see that you have pressing business with your father, Sir. My Lord," she said, addressing Denethor.  
  
"Yes, yes, run off and find Boromir," he said. "Just be careful of Melilot, and don't let him annoy you too much."  
  
Boromir and Melilot had headed to a different garden in the estate, and Rinyávië was far more impressed with this garden than she had been with the other. Wild flowers bloomed everywhere, and the trees were incredibly tall. She felt a desire to climb them as she had done in Mirkwood, but suppressed the urge and instead sought out the two Men.  
  
They were standing beside a tiny pond, tossing rocks lightly into it without a word. Rinyávië came up behind them, utterly silent, scooped up a rock and skipped it lightly over the water. Both turned in surprise, and Boromir smiled. "Interesting trick. How do you do that?"  
  
Rinyávië showed him the art: the size and shape of the rock needed, the way the rock was held, and the light flick of the wrist. The three spent the entire afternoon skipping rocks across the water, and when they finished they headed to dinner.  
  
Rinyávië ate as much as she could, attempting to be polite, but the food was rough and, to Elven tastes, very bitter. The wine, also, was bitter, and she found it difficult to choke down the awful food.  
  
"You're not hungry?" Boromir asked, noting her apparent loss of appetite.  
  
"Oh!" Rinyávië said, flushing. "It's not that, I'm simply trying to savor the meal."  
  
"She hates it," Melilot stated. "That's what she means."  
  
Rinyávië looked startled, but Boromir grinned. "If you don't like something, don't hesitate to ask for something else. I'm sure we have other foods that are more pleasing to your tongue."  
  
Rinyávië smiled. "I would like to hope so, Lord," she admitted. "Something much sweeter, perhaps…and water," she added. "One can never have enough water."  
  
Servants brought the food and drink, and though it was not as delicious as a meal served at Rivendell, Mirkwood, or Lórien, she found that she was able to eat it without complaint.  
  
"I'm sorry you don't like the food," Boromir began, "Perhaps if the cooks knew where you were from, they would be more inclined to make food more to your taste…"  
  
"Oh!" Rinyávië said. She considered for a second. It wasn't that she didn't trust Boromir or Melilot, but something deep in her heart warned her not to tell him that she was an Elf. "I think this is just fine. After a few meals, once I am accustomed to it, I know that this will be a heavenly meal."  
  
Boromir seemed satisfied with this response, but Melilot scowled. "So, where does such a beautiful maiden come from, anyways?"  
  
Rinyávië looked down at her hands. "I come from many places," she replied, not wishing to lie. "I do not exactly live in any one place."  
  
Melilot opened his mouth to argue, but Boromir held up his hand. "If the Lady does not want us to know from where she comes, then she need not tell us." He smiled at her. "But I hope it isn't because you don't trust us."  
  
"No," Rinyávië told him. "I trust you more than I trust many others. You have been very kind and helpful to me, and I am forever grateful."  
  
Boromir looked flustered, but managed a smile. "That's good."  
  
There was a silence. "I'm tired," Rinyávië said finally. "It has been a long day, and I have had much to learn. If I may ask without seeming rude…"  
  
"Your bedroom! Of course," Boromir said quickly. He led her to a large room. The bed was carved of a white wood, and the green lining was laced with gold and silver patterns. "I think you'll like this…"  
  
"It's very beautiful," she replied. "It reminds me almost of home…" A sudden sense of homesickness passed through her heart, but she forced it away. "I will be very happy here. Thank you kindly."  
  
"It wasn't a problem. I'm just glad I can be of help."  
  
One thing turns to another, and Rinyávië found that she had no desire to leave her white room in Minas Tirith, and neither Boromir, Faramir, or Denethor asked her to leave. She stayed ten years in quiet peace, forging strong relationships with her close friends, though she was frightened that Boromir was growing too keen on making more of their friendship.  
  
Finally, on day ten years ago she had first met Boromir, he took her to dinner in her favorite garden by the light of the moon. "It is quite beautiful," she said softly.  
  
"I had hoped it would be," Boromir replied nervously.  
  
Rinyávië blinked. "Is something wrong?"  
  
Boromir took a deep breath. "I have something I need to tell you." Rinyávië felt her heart sink, for she knew what he had to say. "And, it's very difficult for me to say…It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside…I thought the only way I could…could get it out is…is with a song…"  
  
Rinyávië nodded. "All right."  
  
Boromir cleared his throat, then began nervously:  
  
"My gift is my song  
  
And this one's for you  
  
And you can tell everybody  
  
That this is your song  
  
It may be quite simple  
  
But now that it's done  
  
I hope you don't mind  
  
I hope you don't mind  
  
That I put down in words  
  
How wonderful life is now you're in the world…"  
  
Rinyávië gave a startled gasp at his words, remembering the line Legolas had sung for her so very many years ago.  
  
"Sat on the roof  
  
And I kicked off the moss  
  
Well some of these verses well  
  
They got me quite cross  
  
But the sun's been kind  
  
While I wrote this song  
  
It's for people like you that  
  
Keep it turned on  
  
So excuse me for forgetting  
  
But these things I do  
  
You see I've forgotten  
  
If they're green or they're blue  
  
Anyway the thing is what I really mean  
  
Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen  
  
And you can tell everybody  
  
This is your song  
  
It may be quite simple but  
  
Now that it's done  
  
I hope you don't mind  
  
I hope you don't mind that I put down in words  
  
How wonderful life is now you're in the world  
  
I hope you don't mind  
  
I hope you don't mind that I put down in words  
  
How wonderful life is now you're in the world"  
  
Rinyávië trembled as his song finished, her heart pounding. "Boromir…"  
  
He took her hand. "Yes, my dear?" His smile was warm, loving, as if he knew that he had won her heart.  
  
"Boromir, I…I don't think…" She swallowed. "I need to leave," she whispered, pulling her hand away from his and hurrying back to her room. She didn't look back for fear of the expression on his face. She locked the door behind her so he couldn't follow her and threw herself down on her beautiful bed, fighting back tears. A terrible conflict raged between her heart and her mind. Her heart screamed to her, Love him! While her head snapped, Don't be a fool- remember Legolas! As her people often did in times of great pain, she turned to song in hope of sorting out her emotions, and sang tenderly to herself.  
  
"One day I'll fly away  
  
Leave all this to yesterday  
  
What more could your love do for me  
  
When will love be through with me  
  
Why live life from dream to dream  
  
And dread the day when dreaming ends  
  
One day I'll fly away  
  
Fly…fly…away…"  
  
She bit her lip, suddenly knowing what she had to do. She grabbed the few person belongings she owned, trinkets she couldn't bear to part with, and quickly wrapped them in a cloth to be put in her satchel. She grabbed her cloak, an extra pair of boots, and a single pair of pants and a tunic to change into on her travels. She vowed not to leave a note; she didn't want to hurt Boromir any more, she simply needed to leave.  
  
As she was heading out of the estate, she heard a cry behind her. "Rinyávië!" She froze, recognizing Boromir's voice. "Rinyávië, what…what are you…?"  
  
She swallowed. "I need to leave," she whispered. "I can't stay."  
  
Boromir came up to her, his face pained. "What?" She turned her eyes away from him and choked back a sob.  
  
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I need to go." She tried to shove past him, but he grabbed her arm.  
  
"No, Rinyávië. I will not let you leave. Not until you tell me what's wrong."  
  
She tried to wrench her arm from his grasp, but he held tight, and finally she gave up the fight and reduced herself to tears. "Please, Boromir," she whispered. "Let me go…please…"  
  
He shook his head and touched her cheek lightly. "I don't understand, Rinyá. Please. Tell me what's wrong. Was it…was it tonight? I…I can…I'm sorry if it was…"  
  
She wiped away some of her tears. "Please, Boromir…just let me go."  
  
He finally obeyed her plea, but she found that she couldn't move so much as an inch. "Rinyá, what's wrong?" he whispered.  
  
"I can't, Boromir," she said, her eyes begging him to understand. "I can't…I just…I can't…"  
  
"Can't what?" he asked, a sudden fierceness raging in his eyes. "Can't love me? Why not? Because I'm too different from you?"  
  
She shook her head. "Because it hurts."  
  
Boromir froze. "Why should it hurt…you've been in love before."  
  
"Please, Boromir, I don't ask you to understand, I don't want-"  
  
"Well I do," he snapped suddenly. "I have every right to know the truth, Rinyá. You owe it to me."  
  
"No," she said breathily. "No. I can't tell you. I can't tell anyone."  
  
"Then love me," he whispered. "Please, Rinyá. I need you."  
  
"No, Boromir," she replied. "I can't fall in love again. It will hurt me far too much. I don't think I should live if…" She broke off, remembering Legolas and finding herself unable to continue.  
  
"All you need is love, Rinyávië," Boromir whispered, touching her cheek.  
  
She pulled away. "Please," she begged. "Don't start that again."  
  
"All you need is love," Boromir repeated stubbornly.  
  
"Love is just a game," Rinyávië said flatly.  
  
"I was made for loving you," Boromir attempted. "You were made for loving me. That's the way things are." She shook her head. "One night. That's all I ask. One night in the name of love."  
  
"Never."  
  
"Please?"  
  
"I won't give in to you."  
  
"Please, Rinyá. Don't leave me this way. I can't survive."  
  
"Boromir, please don't."  
  
He grabbed her arm. "Love lifts us up where we belong- where eagles fly on mountains high!"  
  
She shook her head and jerked her arm away from him. "Love makes us act like we are fools. Throw our lives away for one happy day."  
  
"We could be great."  
  
"You would be mean."  
  
"Never!" He met her gaze. "We should be lovers."  
  
"We can't do that!"  
  
"We should be lovers," he repeated, his eyes shining brightly. "That's a fact."  
  
"Nothing would keep us together," she argued.  
  
"We could steal time just for one day. We could be great together." He touched her cheek. "I will always love you." And suddenly he grabbed her and pulled her into a fierce kiss. She tried to pull away at first, but as he held her fast, she surrendered her guard and softly returned the kiss, relaxing as she did so. Kissing him wasn't so bad; no…it was one of the best feelings she had ever had…never before had she felt this way about Legolas. She hadn't longed to be held and for the Elven Prince to never let her go, not in the way she longed for Boromir to never let her go.  
  
When he finally drew away from her, she met his gaze. "Boromir?"  
  
He took a deep breath. "Yes?"  
  
"I can't help loving you," she whispered softly, then smiled. "How wonderful life is…now you're in the world."  
  
There was a silence, then suddenly he let out a mad yell and threw his arms around her neck. "I love you so much, Rinyávië!" he whispered, gently kissing her neck. "I love you more than I could ever love anyone, or anything."  
  
She smiled. "Boromir…"  
  
"Mmmm?"  
  
"Boromir, I need to be sure that I love you."  
  
He looked confused. "I don't understand."  
  
"You asked before for the truth, well…I will tell you. I fell in love and was asked for marriage. I agreed to think it over while I returned home, so I did, and I realized that I was not truly in love with him, though I cared for him very much. And…when I returned to him, I discovered that he had already begun making plans for the wedding, and had told all our friends. He did not take the news lightly, and we had a terrible parting filled with horrible words that we did not mean."  
  
Boromir pulled a lock of hair away from Rinyávië's eyes. "Is there any way that you can test to be sure that you love me?"  
  
Rinyávië hesitated, then nodded slowly. "It will be a great test, Boromir…and I'm not…I'm not sure how I will fare against it."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Take me to the Sea, Boromir. I must see the Sea."  
  
"I will, Rinyávië. We'll go tonight, if you so desire."  
  
She nodded. "Yes, the sooner, the better. Please."  
  
The two hurried to the Sea, though Boromir did not understand why. Rinyávië asked him to stand behind her, and she waited for the sun to rise. The night was silent, but as the deep red of the morning lit the sky, gulls took to flight and song. Rinyávië felt the deep passion for the Sea stir inside her; she felt the sudden longing to be out on the water, and felt despair. She did not love Boromir as much as she had thought, after all.  
  
She turned to tell him that, but found that he had come forward and was gently placing his hand on her shoulder. The passions inside her body quieted and became bearable; she found that she could wrench her gaze away from the Sea and she looked at Boromir. In his worried eyes she found a sudden longing, one that was even greater than her longing to sail.  
  
"Boromir?" she asked nervously.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I love you. I want to marry you."  
  
His nervous posture relaxed and he smiled. "I love you too, Rinyávië. And I would be happy to marry you."  
  
"It will be a small ceremony," she told him quietly. "I want only your brother, your father, and Melilot present."  
  
"What of your family?" he asked, sounding surprised.  
  
"They will not come, not even if I begged them. No, Boromir, it must be simply the three of them."  
  
He met her gaze. "Whatever you want, my darling. I want you to be happy."  
  
She smiled faintly, then nestled her head against his shoulder. "I will be."  
  
Plans were made, and Denethor was thoroughly angry that his son wouldn't have a more grand marriage, but when both groom-to-be and bride-to-be argued with him, he gave in. The ceremony was simply; the clothing quite plain, though Rinyávië agreed to dress in as nice a gown as she could find. Since her father was absent from the ceremony, she asked Melilot to give her away, as the two had become very close friends. Rinyávië gave him a chain with a small wolf crafted from stone; Boromir gave her a ring. At first the ring frightened her, for she remembered well that Mordor lay just beyond Minas Tirith, and she knew better than many how weak Men could be when it came to Rings. In the deepest dark of the night, she quietly gave up her immortal life, eagerly choosing Boromir.  
  
Five years later Rinyávië gave birth to their first child, a daughter they called Nen, the Elvish word for "waters." Rinyávië, who realized that Denethor knew much about the Elves, convinced her new father to suggest the name to Boromir, who readily agreed. When Nen was five, Rinyávië gave birth to another daughter, Ngalad, for "light."  
  
Another five years passed. Rinyávië discovered she was once again with child. Boromir knew not that his wife was an Elf, nor that one day his children would have a terrible decision set before him. Melilot remained a dear friend to the family, and both Nen and Ngalad adored the time they spent with him.  
  
Rinyávië had calmed her restless heart for Boromir. She no longer felt the desire to be anything but a housewife, and she found comfort in cooking and cleaning- comfort she had never found in Rivendell.  
  
One evening, she looked up from her cooking to see Boromir trying to sneak out of the house.  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
He froze. "Nowhere, my dear."  
  
"Again?" she asked, disappointed. "Boromir, why do you insist on gambling away your money?"  
  
He laughed. "Because there is always the chance for greater fortune. Imagine, Rinyá, to be the richest people in the world, and have everybody at our beck and call."  
  
She chuckled. "Boromir, everybody is already at your every beck and call, for you are the Steward of Minas Tirith!" Her gaze grew distant. "But you would not enjoy such a life, Boromir. Nor would I." She shook her head. "But this is not a topic worth discussing. Yes, it would be nice to have wonderful servants to wait upon me, for they would be happy if we offered them money, but I do not desire such absolute power."  
  
"You would enjoy power, my darling. You like to be in control of things."  
  
Rinyávië bit her lip. "What you speak of is different, Boromir. You speak of…of complete control over everything." Her voice dropped to a hushed whisper. "You speak of Isildur's Bane."  
  
Boromir raised an eyebrow and sat down in his favorite chair. "I speak of what?"  
  
She blinked at him. "I'm sorry. I confused myself. I don't know what I was talking about."  
  
"You know full well what you were talking about, Rinyá. Tell me. Is it from your past?" He smiled. "Something that might help me discover your history?"  
  
She laughed lightly, and Boromir's smile widened at the tender sound. "Hardly, Boromir. IT is simply a story that is not meant to be associated with you, for you will never know Isildur's Bane."  
  
"So tell me the story. I'm quite curious."  
  
"If it is what you want." She paused, as if searching for the correct words for her story. "It is a myth, nothing more, something my father told me when I was young, the tragedy of Men." She smiled. "Call it a fairy tale if you will, but in my heart, I believe there is truth to it. Years ago, thousands of years, the Elven-smiths created nineteen rings:  
  
'Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky  
  
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone  
  
Nine for mortal Men doomed to die.'  
  
She paused and looked up at Boromir. "These Rings were called the Rings of Power, but they each had their own purposes. But…one being grew quite jealous, if you will. Sauron." She uttered the name as if it were the foulest word she could possibly think to use. "He crafted his own Ring.  
  
'One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne  
  
In the land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.  
  
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them  
  
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them  
  
In the land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.'  
  
"Sauron was very evil. With his own Ring, he went on a great purge of Middle Earth and destroyed all those who opposed his power. Then…the Last Alliance of Men and Elves stood against Sauron's armies, and were soon winning…when Sauron himself arrived. By the power of his Ring, many died, including the King of Men, Elendil. When Isildur, the heir of Elendil, saw his father fall, he took up his father's sword and cut the Ring from Sauron's hand. The sword was broken, The Shards of Narsil, it is called now, but the Ring was separated from Sauron, and Sauron was gone." She smiled faintly. "An Elven lord, fair and just, led Isildur into the heart of Mordor, to the fires of Mount Doom, where the Ring could be destroyed. Isildur refused. He kept the Ring, the One Ring from which came no good."  
  
Boromir looked entranced. "What happened?"  
  
She shook her head. "The Ring has a mind of its own. It betrayed Isildur…and he was killed. Isildur's Bane vanished."  
  
"A myth, no more," Boromir said, almost sadly.  
  
"Boromir!" Rinyávië's voice was hard. "Do not dwell on the Ring. It can only cause grief."  
  
"It is pure myth," Boromir replied. "What does it matter?"  
  
"Not all myths are pure invention, Boromir."  
  
"Never worry, my love. I'll remember."  
  
"And remember, the Ring is evil. No good can come from it."  
  
He raised an eyebrow. "Ah, next you will be telling me exactly where I can find it."  
  
Her gaze turned distant. "If I knew, I would destroy it," she said quietly, her voice distant, and Boromir knew that her mind had returned to the past.  
  
He set a hand on her shoulder and she started, then blinked. "It is a myth. Fairy tale. Forget about it," Boromir told her softly.  
  
"Yes," she agreed sadly. "Myth. It does not exist. It never has." She sighed, then suddenly her eyes brightened. "I have dishes to attend to. Perhaps my husband would be kind and help me…?"  
  
"I think I would rather go gambling."  
  
She gazed outside. "Boromir, it is quite late. Time for normal people to head to bed. Don't gamble tonight." She wrapped her arms around his waist and gazed into his eyes pleadingly. "The children are with Melilot, and we are alone." She grinned, and he chuckled.  
  
"My dear, whatever are you suggesting?" he asked innocently, then kissed her gently. "Let me run and fetch my cloak; I left it on the front chair so you wouldn't grow suspicious."  
  
Rinyávië laughed lightly. "Boromir, truly! You have more ways of sneaking around than I could ever have imagined."  
  
He kissed her forehead. "I love you."  
  
She frowned. "Why do Men think that these simple words will get them out of any kind of trouble they encounter?"  
  
He kissed her forehead again. "I'll be right back, I need to get my cloak."  
  
"And perhaps tell whoever is waiting for you that your wife is horribly mean to you and refuses to let you go out tonight?"  
  
"That too," he agreed. He hurried away, and she shook her head.  
  
"This will take a while, I'm certain," she said to herself, then sat down in a comfortable chair and pulled out a book to read. She had only begun when Boromir returned, Faramir following close behind him.  
  
She looked concerned. "What is wrong?"  
  
Faramir gulped. "I've had a strange dream, a dream that has haunted my sleep for many nights now."  
  
Rinyávië blinked worriedly, then nodded. "Please, tell," she said, pulling him down into a chair.  
  
"There was a storm upon me from the East, while there was sun and hope in the West, and suddenly, out of nowhere from the West, I heard a voice, saying clearly:  
  
'Seek for the Sword that was Broken;  
  
In Imladris it dwells  
  
There shall be counsels taken  
  
Stronger than Morgul-spells  
  
There shall be shown a token  
  
That Doom is near at hand  
  
For Isildur's Bane shall waken  
  
And the Halfling forth shall stand.'"  
  
Boromir frowned. "I don't understand. Is it a riddle?"  
  
Rinyávië sat down and stared at him. "For Isildur's Bane shall waken," she repeated darkly.  
  
"Does this have some importance to you?" Boromir asked.  
  
She looked startled. "Have you no memory of the tale I told you tonight?"  
  
He blinked, then flushed. "Ah, yes…I see…Then this riddle makes no sense!"  
  
Rinyávië looked down at her hands. "And yet," she thought, "It makes perfect sense. He must find the Sword of Elendil, and Isildur's Bane shall rise again. Halfling…I do not know this term, though I feel that deep in my heart I should. If only it could be known to me, this entire truth!" "You must go to your father," she said aloud. "Denethor will know what this tale means."  
  
Faramir smiled. "Yes, Father will know. He will help me understand."  
  
Rinyávië bit her lip. "Faramir…" She smiled. "Don't worry about the riddle. I'm sure it doesn't mean anything of importance." He looked relaxed, as was her goal, for she knew that his words meant that a terrible time lay ahead.  
  
The next morning, Faramir, Boromir, and Rinyávië went to see Lord Denethor, and Faramir, Rinyávië, and Denethor were shocked to learn that Boromir had the same dream the night before.  
  
"It is a sign," Denethor said. "Imladris…the Sword that was Broken…mmm…yes, I see…"  
  
"See what?" Faramir asked.  
  
"You must go to Imladris."  
  
"Go to where, Father?" Faramir asked.  
  
"Imladris. Rivendell. The home of Elrond the Halfelven. If any knows what your tale means, it is Elrond." He glanced briefly at Rinyávië, who gave the slightest of nods. "You must hurry, Faramir, and go quickly."  
  
"No," Boromir said. "I should go, Father. I am eldest."  
  
But Denethor shook his head. "Your brother knows the dream well, for he has had it many times. He should be the one to go."  
  
A loud argument followed, but within minutes Boromir won over his father and received permission to go to the House of Elrond.  
  
When it was finally decided that Boromir would go, Denethor asked to speak with Rinyávië alone.  
  
"What do you think of my son going to the house of your father?" he asked curiously.  
  
"It is right," she replied. "I cannot explain how or why, but I know that deep in my heart it feels right."  
  
Denethor met her gaze. "You know what the riddle means, do you not?"  
  
She shook her head. "Not entirely, my Lord. But I wish I did."  
  
He studied her. "Hurry now. Go to see my son safely away."  
  
Rinyávië went to bid him farewell, and she brought Nen and Ngalad with to say goodbye to their father. Her darkest fears awakened by the mention of Isildur's Bane in her husband's dreams, her gaze strayed to Mordor, where the sky was a swollen black like it had never been before. "Terror is coming," she thought softly. "I hope we can walk through it."  
  
She kissed Boromir lightly on the lips, ignoring the whispered disgust her children showed about their affectionate display, and touched his cheek. "Ride hard and well, Boromir, and keep me near your heart. However dark the road may become, I am always with you."  
  
He pulled out the chain and pendant she had given him the day they wed. "You are always near my heart, love," he whispered softly. "And I shall keep you always with me, come what may."  
  
She smiled and kissed him again. "I love you."  
  
"I love you more," he whispered back, then hugged his daughters. "You two obey your mother, do you hear me? When I get back I'd best not hear that either of you did anything to upset her, understand?"  
  
"Yes, Daddy," they said together, then hugged him.  
  
"Daddy, are you going to come home fast?" Ngalad asked tearfully.  
  
"As fast as I can, princess," he replied, kissing her cheek. "I promise." He mounted his horse and quickly headed away, tossing back to them, "Behave!" before vanishing entirely.  
  
Rinyávië gazed at the dark sky over Mordor. "May we all be lucky," she whispered before returning indoors.  
  
~*~  
  
Boromir rode hard and fast, but the journey was long and trying and he was all too glad when Imladris finally came into sight.  
  
His company was greeted by a small group of Elves; the leader introduced himself as Elladan, eldest son of Elrond, but none of the Elves seemed surprised by the Men. It wasn't until later that he discovered the reason why.  
  
Elladan told him that a council had been called, and he was asked to attend. Boromir refused at first, and Elladan took him to see Elrond personally.  
  
Elrond turned. "So you are Boromir, the Steward of Gondor. I have heard much about you, especially of late."  
  
"Yes, Lord Elrond," Boromir said cautiously. "Though I do not know from whom you would have learned of me."  
  
Elrond chuckled softly. "I'll get to that in a minute. But first, business. My son tells me that you do not wish to attend the council I have called."  
  
"It is not that I don't wish to attend, my Lord, but I have a very pressing matter…"  
  
"Your dream, yes, I know all about it. And if you attend the council, everything you wish to know will be explained."  
  
There was a hesitation. "You know about my dream, Lord?"  
  
Elrond withdrew a letter from a pocket and showed it to Boromir. "A letter from a name you will recognize."  
  
Boromir opened it slowly, then glanced uncertainly down, his gaze falling upon the familiar script and the warm signature. "Rinyávië," he whispered in surprise.  
  
Elrond nodded. "Read the letter."  
  
Dearest Father~  
  
I suppose you thought you would never hear from me again. It has been a long while, has it not? I hope all is well with you, and with my dear sister and loving brothers.  
  
I write to you on matters of grave importance, Father. My husband, Steward of Gondor, the devout Boromir, is coming to Imladris in the name of Minas Tirith, for he has had a dream that is very troubling. I do not wish for him to suddenly appear at your door without prior warning, so I send this letter.  
  
His dream is quite odd, Father, but I understand much of it, and it frightens me, especially here in Minas Tirith, where I can see the darkness growing over Mordor.  
  
I do not know the full detail, but in his dream he hears a voice, and the voice says to him:  
  
"Seek for the Sword that was Broken  
  
In Imladris it dewlls;  
  
There shall be counsels taken  
  
Stronger than Morgul-spells  
  
There shall be shown a token  
  
That Doom is near at hand  
  
For Isildur's Bane shall waken  
  
And the Halfling forth shall stand."  
  
Dearest Father, I know not what a Halfling is, though I know I should, but I understand quite well the bit about the Sword and Isildur's Bane. We must be prepared, Father, for the great war that is ahead of us.  
  
Say hello to Arwen for me, and ask that Elladan and Elrohir forgive me for not returning.  
  
"She's your daughter?" Boromir asked, surprised.  
  
Elrond smiled. "Did you not think her to be the most beautiful woman you had ever seen before in your life? Did you not notice her ears, their shape so different from yours? And what of her voice- unnaturally beautiful, to your people."  
  
"I noticed," Boromir said heavily, "But never in my wildest dreams did I think my Rinyávië could be an Elf."  
  
"My Rinyávië," Elrond replied, accenting "my," "Has chosen to leave the life of an Elf and live as a Human. I only hope that you have shown her the respect and love that she can find nowhere else but in you."  
  
"I have indeed, my Lord."  
  
"Good. Then I have something for you." Elrond held out another note. "My daughter asked that I not open this, and I have followed her wishes. It is addressed to you."  
  
Darling Boromir~  
  
By now you know that I am an Elf- or at least, you would if my father kept his promise. I am dreadfully sorry for not telling you the truth, but I was frightened. I want you to know that your daughters will be told promptly, so there are no more secrets in the family.  
  
Boromir, I know you very well, and I know that you will not wish to attend the council my father will undoubtedly call. I know him very well, you see, and I know you just as well. You are of opposite personalities, and will argue much over this matter.  
  
Don't. I don't want you to argue, Boromir. You are my husband and Elrond is my father. I want you to attend his council and share your story. Please. It is a piece of the puzzle that must be fit into its place.  
  
I love you with all my heart, Boromir. Nen and Ngalad wish to say hello.  
  
Hi Daddy! I want you to come home soon, okay? Pretty please, Daddy? We all miss you, and I want you to come home now! Love, Nen  
  
I want you to come home even more, Daddy, because I miss you one hundred times Nen. Love you! Ngalad  
  
Your children are so darling. Don't rush your time, Boromir, no matter what they ask, for what you have to do is very important. The children are behaving, never fear, though I'm a bit worried about Melilot. He seems to think that I am open claim now that my husband is gone away for a time.  
  
I love you, Boromir. No matter how long the road gets, keep my love with you for always, and I will do the same. Oh, and Boromir. The new child grows larger every day. Though I don't want you to be hasty, please hurry. I want you here to name him.  
  
Rinyávië  
  
Boromir pulled the letter close to his chest and smiled, fighting back tears. "Thank you, Lord Elrond. When will your council be held?"  
  
"It will be tomorrow. You will have time today to rest and eat."  
  
"Who else will be at the council?" Boromir asked curiously.  
  
Elrond smiled. "Several emissaries from different races. You and Strider will be representing the Men, there will be one Hobbit present, a Wizard named Gandalf, several Dwarves, and several Elves. The Dwarves will be led mainly by Gimli son of Glóin, and the Elves led by Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, whom my daughter very nearly married." Boromir fought back an angry remark. He understood Elrond's tone- the Elf was not at all pleased that his daughter had left an Elven Prince for a Human Steward.  
  
~*~  
  
Boromir was bored. There was no way around it- he was incredibly bored. The night hung heavy, and he could not find solace in the room he had been placed in- Rinyávië's old room.  
  
Finally, he took to walking the Realm, and came upon a mural depicting a great battle. He remembered the tale Rinyávië had told him, and blinked in surprise. "Impossible," he thought to himself. "She said it was merely a myth…"  
  
He touched the mural lightly, smiling as he saw in it the sword that cut the Ring from Sauron's hand. He turned, and caught sight of a shiny object lying on a small table.  
  
He picked up the blade in shock. "The Shards of Narsil. The very blade that cut the Ring from Sauron's hand." He studied it, ran his finger up the edge, but jerked his hand away as it drew blood. "Still sharp," he marveled. He felt a sudden chill run down his spine. The warning was one he often felt when Rinyávië was nearby but did not want to be seen. Someone was watching him. He glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw a dark, rugged man sitting nearby, reading a book. Boromir quickly set the Sword down and stepped away. "No more than a broken heirloom," he mumbled, hurrying away.  
  
The next morning the council met. There were many figures there, but only two Boromir recognized: Elrond and the man from the night before. No introductions were made, but Elrond was quick to make a slight speech and ask the shortest of the company to bring the Ring to the center of the table.  
  
The Hobbit, the Halfling, as Boromir recognized him to be, was named Frodo. His unkempt hair was black, his eyes a shining blue, and he looked weary as he placed the Ring on the table.  
  
"It is true," Boromir whispered. He thought back to Rinyávië, to the tales she had told him of the absolute power of the wielder.  
  
"The doom of Man," someone whispered in reply, but Boromir shook his head.  
  
"It is a gift," he said, suddenly desiring to hold the Ring. "A gift to the foes of Mordor. Why not use this Ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him!"  
  
"You cannot wield it!" Strider said sharply. "None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master."  
  
Boromir felt a deep and sudden anger rise up against him. "And what would a mere Ranger know of this matter?"  
  
An Elf stood up, disgust and loathing in his eyes. "This is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance."  
  
"Aragorn?" Boromir repeated in shock. He knew that name very well. "This is…this is Isildur's heir?"  
  
"An heir to the throne of Gondor." Boromir forced himself not to snap at the Elf, who seemed to enjoy using the title of the Ranger to taunt Boromir.  
  
"Havo dad, Legolas," Aragorn said quietly.  
  
Boromir froze, recognizing the name. Legolas. The Elf Rinyávië had nearly married. "Judging by his reaction to me," Boromir thought, "He must know that I was Rinyávië's final choice. And that does not make him happy." He looked at Legolas. "Gondor has no king. Gondor needs no king."  
  
Boromir listened only with half interest to the rest of the argument, agreeing only to accompany Frodo on his journey. He knew that the travel would bring him back home, and he would have a chance at becoming closer to the Ring. It was not something he could afford to miss.  
  
Nine became the Fellowship of the Ring: Frodo, Meriadoc, Peregrin, and Samwise, Hobbits all; Gandalf the Wizard, Legolas the Elf, Gimli the Dwarf, and Aragorn and Boromir the Men. They set out almost immediately from Rivendell, prepared for the long journey ahead of them.  
  
For most of the trip, Legolas and Boromir stayed far away from each other, and this gave Boromir the opportunity to get to know the other members of the Fellowship better. Merry and Pippin, as Meriadoc and Peregrin were called, became fast friends with Boromir, and the three spent much time together. Boromir taught them to properly fight with a sword, and deep in his heart felt the longing to protect the two Hobbits.  
  
The Fellowship braved the mountain Caradhras, but found that the evil Saruman, their newest enemy, was working his magic on the mountain, and they were forced to travel through the Mines of Moria.  
  
The Mines were more a tomb than anything else, and Boromir felt his hope dwindle away. The place was ugly, and he wondered why he had agreed to accompany these folk to such a horrid place. Just as he was beginning to become strongly argumentative, Merry saw the chain around his neck.  
  
"What's that?" he asked curiously.  
  
Boromir pulled it out and fingered the wolf, suddenly feeling more at peace. "It was a gift," he replied.  
  
"From who?" Pippin asked, leaning forward to get a better look at it.  
  
"My wife," Boromir replied softly. He heard Legolas utter a faint sound of anger, but ignored it.  
  
"I didn't think you were married," Pippin remarked. "What's she like?"  
  
Boromir smiled. "She is perfect," he told the Hobbit. "She is intelligent, funny, wonderful with words, a charming mother and a wonderful lover; she has a voice that could make the heavens weep and the beauty to melt even the coldest frost."  
  
"It is no wonder," Legolas said tightly. "She is, after all, an Elf."  
  
"You married an Elf?" Merry asked. "Wow!"  
  
"And you've got kids," Pippin remarked. "How incredible!"  
  
The conversation had caught the attention of Sam, but he was polite enough to stay out of it. "You'll meet them, some day soon," Boromir said. "She will like your company, for you are much like a close friend of ours from home."  
  
Legolas stared at Boromir for a few seconds before turning away, and suddenly Gandalf remembered which direction they were supposed to take and they hurried along.  
  
Though he came near death several times, Boromir found that he never felt fear, and his thoughts remained with Rinyávië and his beautiful daughters for the journey.  
  
When finally they arrived on the other side, sans Gandalf, Boromir felt a great weight lying on his chest, for he had loved the old man as a son loves his father, and though he wanted time for himself and the Hobbits to mourn, he understood Aragorn's order to hurry.  
  
He didn't know what he had expected of the beautiful woods, but the people greatly surprised them, for they looked much like Rinyávië. Their hair was tender; whitish blond in the males, curly golden in the females.  
  
It was clear to Boromir that the Lady of the Wood, Galadriel, was of some relation to Rinyávië, for their appearances matched quite well, and the Lord of the Woods, Celeborn, shared with Rinyávië an emotional strength.  
  
Boromir felt hopeless as they left, though the Argonath filled him with wonder and amazement, and he vowed to one day bring his children to see the gorgeous carvings.  
  
They stopped on the banks of Amon Hen, but Boromir was restless. He felt a torrent of emotions raging in his heart, and they would not be silenced by his chain, and Boromir felt deep inside a curious longing for the Ring. The longing had grown steadily stronger and more powerful, but it had never quite reached such a peak, and he felt that it was driving him mad.  
  
There was a moment of silence, then suddenly Boromir realized that Frodo had vanished. Now is your chance, a tiny voice whispered in his head. You can convince Frodo that you must have the ring!  
  
Boromir sneaked off into the woods and quickly followed Frodo; he did not know exactly where the young Hobbit went, but he would find him quickly enough. Along the way he scooped up several twigs, to make it look like he was helping to gather wood for a fire, and suddenly he spotted Frodo.  
  
"None of us should wander alone," Boromir said, a good conversation started. "You least of all. So much depends on you." There was a moment of silence. "Frodo?" Still the Hobbit did not reply, and Boromir began to fear that the youth knew of his plans to get the Ring. "I know why you seek solitude. You suffer. I see it day by day. Be sure you do not suffer needlessly." Again, no response, and Boromir was beginning to grow quite impatient. "There are other ways, Frodo. Other paths that we might take." "Yes," Boromir thought, "A good, subtle hint."  
  
"I know what you would say, and it would seem like wisdom, but for the warning in my heart."  
  
"He knows!" Boromir thought darkly, but he decided to play the fool. "Warning? Against what? We're all afraid, Frodo, but to let that fear drive us to destroy what hope we have? Don't you see, it's madness!" Hard as he tried, Boromir could no longer control the words coming from his mouth. It was as if his entire body was possessed and he had no say in what he thought or felt.  
  
"There is no other way."  
  
"I ask only for the strength to defend my people! If you would but lend me the Ring…" Another good subtle suggestion.  
  
"No!" Frodo cried, drawing away from the elder.  
  
"Why do you recoil? I am no thief!" No, certainly not, he said to himself. You are merely trying to steal this…this belonging, this item!  
  
"You are not yourself!" Frodo gasped, backing away.  
  
Boromir suddenly grew angry. "What chance do you think you have? They will find you. They will take the Ring, and you will beg for death before the end." Frodo didn't respond, and suddenly Boromir lunged at him, unable to control himself. "You fool! It is not yours save by unhappy chance. It should have been mine. Give me the Ring! Give it to me!" There was a fierce struggle, and Boromir felt the prize in his fingertips for a mere moment when suddenly Frodo disappeared. He kicked Boromir, knocking the Man to the ground, and Boromir snarled viciously. "I see your mind! You will take the Ring to Sauron! You will betray us. You go to your death, and the death of all! Curse you! Curse you, and all the Halflings!" Boromir struggled to regain his footing and scramble up the hill, but suddenly slipped and fell to the ground. He felt Rinyávië's necklace press against his chest, and suddenly his mind returned and he felt only horror and sickness at what he had done. "Frodo?" he whimpered. "Frodo?" No response. "What have I done?" he whispered to himself. "Please, Frodo…" he begged the silence, hoping the Hobbit was still nearby and would good enough to forgive him.  
  
There was a moment of silence, and Boromir fought to regain his full senses, clutching his wife's pendant in his hand. He knew that a terrible battle lay ahead, and deep in his heart he felt that he would not survive it. He hated to leave Frodo with such a deep fear, and longed to once more see his wife and children, his brother and father, but knew that his final duty lay to the Fellowship.  
  
He got to his feet and raced, fast as he could, to find the others.  
  
Merry and Pippin were standing, facing a group of Orcs, and suddenly Boromir felt rage well up inside him- rage at Sauron and all his minions. Boromir knew in his heart that the two Hobbits were prepared to sacrifice themselves to save Frodo, and that was what they must be doing, but Boromir was not ready for them to die. He had pledged, deep in his heart, to protect them, for they were like the sons he would never see grow up, and he intended to continue fighting for them and for Frodo. Nothing else mattered. He gripped the pendant, then slipped the chain under his shirt to protect it.  
  
When finally he fell to his knees, three arrows in his chest, he heard the cries of Merry and Pippin and knew that he had failed them. Aragorn came running up and saw Boromir, pity rising in his eyes.  
  
Boromir looked at him. "They took the little ones," he whispered, pain lancing through his body and mind. Merry! Pippin! Why could I not save you?  
  
"Lay still," Aragorn ordered.  
  
Boromir ignored him. "Frodo. Where is Frodo?" he demanded, hoping with all his might that the Halfling had gotten away.  
  
"I let Frodo go," Aragorn replied softly.  
  
Boromir smiled. This is why he will be King. "Then you did what I could not." He stared at Aragorn in shame. "I tried to take the Ring from him."  
  
"The Ring is beyond our reach now."  
  
As if that is any comfort to what I have done. "Forgive me," Boromir uttered. "I did not see it. I have failed you all." It hurt to admit these words, hurt to think that he had caused the Fellowship to break apart.  
  
"No, Boromir," Aragorn consoled him. "You fought bravely. You have kept your honor." He reached to take the arrow from Boromir's chest.  
  
"No!" Boromir said sharply. "Leave it. It is over." He felt blood trickle from his lip. "The world of Men will fall, and the whole world will come to darkness. My city to ruin." Pain lanced through him, but he ignored it as he thought of his family. My dear wife, my precious children…what have I done?  
  
"I do not know what strength is in my blood, but I swear to you, I will not let the White City fall, nor our people fail."  
  
Those words filled Boromir with hope, and he suddenly realized that somehow he had Rinyávië's pendant in his hand. He gripped it tightly, then smiled at Aragorn. "Our people," he repeated. "Our people." He knew suddenly that as long as the Heir of Elendil lived, Men would prevail. Aragorn put Boromir's sword into the Steward's unclenched hand, and raised it to Boromir's chest. He saw Legolas and the Dwarf Gimli appear in the background, and felt sudden remorse that he and the Elf never made their amends. He could tell that Legolas felt the same way. "I would have followed you," Boromir whispered to Aragorn, death nearing, "My brother…my captain…" he smiled faintly. "My king," he uttered, then thought blankly, Rinyávië…forgive me as he took his last breath.  
  
Rinyávië stood next to Faramir by the Great River, and she too saw the boat carrying her husband's body. She too remembered the call of the Horn, and she felt sudden, searing pain lance through her heart when she realized that he was gone.  
  
She had been strong her entire life and never shed an unnecessary tear, but with this realization she broke down and wept passionately. Faramir embraced her, but he could not console her. Standing by the shore, she heard the screams of the gulls, and felt the sudden desire to sail. Her desire could not be quelled by Faramir's touch, nor by the thought of her children or anything else. She went home, still weeping, and left Faramir to tell his father of the news while Rinyávië went to relieve Melilot of his duty babysitting.  
  
She found her friend holding the newborn twins, one in each arm, while Nen and Ngalad sat reading next to him.  
  
"What's wrong?" Melilot asked in surprise. She shook her head and glanced at the two young girls. Melilot instantly stood up and followed her to the kitchen.  
  
"Boromir…" She choked on her words and wiped at her eyes. "He's dead," she managed.  
  
Melilot looked extremely downcast and sniffed. "Impossible. He can't be."  
  
Rinyávië held out her hands and Melilot handed over the baby boy. "I saw it myself, Melilot," she replied softly. Her son looked up and blinked curiously, and Rinyávië saw how much like Boromir he was. She burst into tears once again. "I think," she gasped, "I shall have to name him after his father."  
  
Melilot wiped his eyes. "That's a good idea."  
  
She sniffed. "I will name my beautiful baby girl…I shall call her Mornië, for she was born in a time of great darkness," Rinyávië whispered softly. She looked at Melilot. "We're going to leave," she said suddenly.  
  
The Man looked startled. "Where are you going to?"  
  
She shrugged. "If only I knew…but I must sail."  
  
He stared. "You're an Elf."  
  
She nodded. "Indeed. Boromir kept my need for the Sea at bay, but now…he is gone and I must go. My children will go with, of course."  
  
Melilot nodded firmly. "I will go with."  
  
"No," she began.  
  
"Yes," he interrupted. "You will need a Man with you on this journey, and I volunteer. You can hardly expect Faramir to go, for he is the new heir, and Denethor is the current Steward."  
  
Rinyávië suddenly embraced Melilot. "You're a good friend," she told him softly. "And I am glad that you will be accompanying me."  
  
He grinned. "Couldn't ask for better companions. Let's leave this hole."  
  
When they had packed and were leaving the House, Rinyávië allowed herself one final look around. She gazed at the black mountains of Mordor, and turned her eyes in the direction of Rivendell. "Goodbye, Father," she whispered. "I wish I could have seen you one final time. My sister, be strong. Elladan, Elrohir, fear not for my safety, and keep me always with you. I love you all." She gazed at the city. "And Faramir and Denethor, you have been wonderful to me. I will remember you always. Goodbye, my dearest loved ones. I hope to see you some time again."  
  
The End 


End file.
